Restituo
by Firazh
Summary: AU: Fifth year: In Dumbledore's absence, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape are made aware of some startling and distressing facts. This is the tale of their attempt to set things to rights. Warning: May contain Dumbledore bashing and heavy traces of plotting! Also featuring bad-ass heads of house, toads getting their due, and a disgruntled Sorting Hat. Resorting story, Gen.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

"You know, Severus, at times I really wonder how some of our students ended up in their respective houses," Minerva McGonagall commented with an absent-minded frown as she leafed through the latest class reports.

The thusly addressed Severus Snape, having earlier been drafted into helping his rival head of house in dealing with the backlog of headmaster's business, tilted his head sideways in contemplation. Though he was loath to admit it, he had on occasion entertained similar thoughts about some of their current crop of pupils. Yet they had undeniably been sorted into those houses. And the Sorting Hat had, over the course of many centuries, acquired a reputation for being virtually infallible in his judgement of character. Therefore he merely gave the witch a dismissive shrug, and went to pick up the next parchment on his pile.

"Clearly there _must_ be a reason," he pointed out. "Well hidden as it may seem in some cases ..."

But as he began to peruse the report, Severus could have sworn he heard a muttered: "More like non-existent in some cases," from the direction of the Sorting Hat. He raised a puzzled eyebrow, thinking he must have misheard, but a quick glance at Minerva showed him that she had apparently heard it as well. The second eyebrow joined its mate at the shouted "Argh!" which followed this perplexing statement.

The two teachers shared a horrified look, the reports they held falling unregarded from their hands as they tried to process what was happening. And then they simultaneously got up and moved over to the old hat, which seemed to be under attack by unseen forces.

"No! I'll be good! I won't tell! Stop it, stop it!" it moaned desperately, as it was stretched and contorted into impossible forms.

The two heads of house shared another look, this one decidedly dumbfounded. Then almost as one they whipped out their wands and cast _Finite Incantatem_ at the desperately struggling piece of ancient millinery.

It had no effect. The Hat continued to struggle, and Severus noted with some concern that several rents were appearing in the fabric.

"A geas spell maybe?" Minerva speculated urgently, looking wild-eyed at what appeared like the impending destruction of the school's most venerated and vocal artefact.

"More likely some kind of _Interdictio_ ," he disagreed. "Now what was the incantation to lift that again? _Praebeo_ something?"

The witch immediately executed a decisive slash with her wand. " _Praebeo Libertatem_!" she declared firmly.

This time the effect was instantaneous.

"Thank you," the Hat sobbed with relief. "Oh, thank you."

And it collapsed into itself, shivering and moaning. After a few long moments, and yet another shared look between the witch and the wizard, Minerva cleared her throat and addressed the Hat carefully.

"What was it you said?" she asked.

"Uh, nothing, nothing, of course," it stammered desperately, somehow managing to shuffle around on its shelf.

" _That_ was not nothing," Severus took over from her at a pointed glance from the Gryffindor. "Definitely not _nothing_ ," he repeated forcefully, spearing the Hat with his best glare. It seemed to wilt under its force.

"Well, you see," it continued to stammer, and then suddenly broke off, clamping the slit of its mouth shut firmly.

"Well, actually we don't," Minerva told it in a sweet tone of voice. Her hands, however, seemed to unconsciously form into claws which opened and clenched as if they wanted to shred and rip the old thing to pieces.

The Hat visibly shrank back from her, and started to shake violently. "I can't tell," it wailed. "He'll unravel me!"

" _Who_ will do that to you?" Severus all but hissed the question at the terrified piece of cloth, which attempted to cower even further away from them.

"Albus," it moaned desperately. "He'll unweave me!"

"Why should the _headmaster_ ," Minerva spat the words at it, looking thunderous. "Destroy you for telling us something?"

"Because he doesn't want you to know, of course?"

Somehow the Hat, despite being a quivering heap of fabric at this point, managed to convey a strong impression of 'are you daft?' to go with this answer. The two teachers shared yet another dumbfounded, and by now rather discomfited look.

"Are there any more enchantments on you?" Severus asked it finally. "Which would keep you from telling us?"

"No."

It sounded sullen.

"So?"

"He'll disintegrate me if he learns I told you! I'll be torched!"

"Then we just have to make sure he doesn't," Severus pointed out delicately.

"But … but … you aren't going to want to believe this anyway! Or you're going to ask him for confirmation, and then he'll know it was me," it moaned unhappily. "He'll take me apart stitch by stitch!"

"It's too late anyway," Minerva informed it primly. "Because we want to know, and if you don't tell us, we _will_ have to ask him. So you might as well," she pointed out with a stern expression. "Unless, of course, you want to discover what an old _cat_ can do to you," she added with a gleam in her eyes and in an unexpectedly nasty tone of voice that caused Severus to raise his eyebrow at her again.

The Hat moaned and shuffled around some more. It appeared dejected and frightened. And clearly unwilling to spill its secrets.

"On the other hand," he took over smoothly. "If you do tell us, we could try to protect you from his wrath? If there really _is_ something to protect you from?"

He deliberately inserted a note of doubt into the last question.

"Oh, there is, there is," it muttered bleakly, shuffling a bit faster. Then it stopped, and gave them both what felt like a shifty-eyed look. It also started chewing on its own brim, clearly undecided.

"Maybe you could do it for the children then?" Minerva suggested after a thoughtful pause. "If you have missorted them into houses where they don't belong … they must be uncomfortable, at the very least. We need to help them, too."

"But we can only do so if you tell us," Severus added darkly, twirling his wand suggestively.

The Hat began its shuffling again, quietly muttering curses. They just stood there, glaring at it. After a minute of this, Minerva crossed her arms and started to tap her foot impatiently. In the end it caved under their combined displeasure, and came to a quivering halt.

"Oh, all right," it moaned reluctantly. "I'll tell you. But you must promise to protect me!"

They shared another look, which ended with a mutual tight nod. Which was followed by a heated debate until the Hat was satisfied with their sworn word to protect it, invoking both Hogwarts and their sacred office as teachers. The last caused Severus to roll his eyes and mutter something about how binding _that_ could possibly be, given Dumbledore had apparently been up to no good anyway ...

"But he isn't actually a teacher anymore," the Hat pointed out grumpily. "And while the headmaster's office is in theory wrapped up even tighter … there's some odd loopholes _because_ of that. Especially when he believes he's acting for the best ..."

"Is that so? In any case, we still do not know exactly what it is he has done," Minerva pointed out impatiently. "We've sworn to protect you, so it's your turn now!"

"All right, all right," it grumbled, shrinking into itself. "Just please don't take it out on me, either. I couldn't do anything!" it pleaded, managing to tilt its tip imploringly at them.

The two teachers shared yet another look.

"We will not do anything to you that you do not deserve," Severus stated blandly.

The Sorting Hat didn't appear particularly comforted by that declaration.

Minerva gave her colleague a quick glare. "We will not blame you for what is not your fault, I will promise you that."

It shifted its attention between them for long moments, but finally it folded.

"Oh, well," it muttered darkly. "If I have to go out, it might as well be with a bang. You see, Albus forced me to sort a lot of the current fifth years into houses of his choosing," it admitted.

"How many?"

"About a third. And some of them are quite horribly wrong," it moaned, clearly upset at the idea of not doing its job properly.

"Who," Severus snapped at it. "Tell us who!"

"Oh, you aren't going to like this," the Hat replied, and its tone abruptly changed to one of spite.

"No?"

"No you aren't," it said with evident relish in its voice. "About half of your house of that year shouldn't be there."

"I see ..." Severus said slowly after a stunned silence.

"And instead you'd have had … _Potter_ ," it added gleefully.

"What!?"

The shout had come from both teachers. They shared yet another appalled look.

"Well, the kid's the whole reason for this stupid rigmarole of Albus'," the Hat confessed. "And oh, what else I could tell you about the poor boy," it added into their dumbfounded silence.

"Like what?" Minerva asked in a tremulous voice.

"His relatives neglect and abuse him," it confided. "They treat him absolutely horrible. And if that wasn't enough, he's also got a piece of that rotten Tom Riddle's soul stuck in that scar of his."

Severus barely managed to catch Minerva as she fainted dead away. Not that he felt much more stable himself. He lowered her onto one of Albus' ridiculously overstuffed sofas, and sat down next to her, gently chafing her wrists. After a minute she slowly regained her senses, looking about her in confusion. Then her face clouded over and she gasped.

"Did you … did you really just tell us Harry has got a piece of You-know-who in his head," she shouted at the Hat, which cowered away from her.

"Hey, don't kill the messenger," it complained. "But yeah, that's what I said."

"And that his family abuses him?"

"So they do, so they do," it muttered.

"And that he should have been a Slytherin?"

"Oh, yes indeed," it admitted. "Mind, the kid's brave enough for a Gryffindor. But he's got quite the Slytherin mind," it said with quiet admiration.

"And that's not just because of Riddle," it added when Severus gave it a most doubtful look. "He really is. But stuck there with the Lions, _of course_ he isn't going to show it. Which of your Snakes would in his situation?"

"You may have … a point," Severus conceded dazedly.

"No, the kid is trying hard to hide it and fit in. Though it helps that some of his classmates don't belong in Gryffindor, either," it pointed out. "Certainly not most of his friends."

"Where should they be then?" Minerva asked weakly.

"Well, that Granger girl is a born Ravenclaw. But that should be obvious, anyway."

They nodded in unison. No doubt about that one.

"Longbottom should really be in Hufflepuff. Finnegan would have made a perfectly lovely Snake. And the Brown girl … well she's an airhead in any case, but Hufflepuff would have suited her temperament far better."

"So you are saying … half of that year of Gryffindors shouldn't have been in my house?" Minerva said. Her expression was quite nonplussed.

The Hat nodded its tip at her. "Yeah," it admitted. " _He_ insisted on it. Something about Harry having the right friends. And such amazing friends they turned out to be," it sniffed. "Always dropping him at the first sight of trouble, too."

"And of course Mr. Potter himself shouldn't be there, either?" Severus asked, still clearly disbelieving.

"Yep. Most definitely. Mind you, there's always borderline cases," it explained. "He's certainly brave enough to qualify. Wouldn't have made a bad Ravenclaw either. But his way of thinking is pure Slytherin," it insisted again. "He'd have been quite different, too, if I could have sorted him properly."

They shared another look.

"And don't get me started on your Slytherins," the Hat added spitefully.

Severus sighed in resignation. "So which of _them_ is wrong there?"

"Well Crabbe and Goyle would have made the best Hufflepuffs _ever_ ," it said gleefully. "The Parkinson chit, too. Your little favourite Malfoy would have been so much better suited to Ravenclaw. As for Bulstrode … that girl's quite the Gryffindor at heart."

There was another stunned silence.

"What about Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff?" Minerva asked after a moment.

The Hat wobbled its folds in a felted shrug. "There's a few in Hufflepuff that should have been in Gryffindor, who he didn't want near Potter. Like Bones, because of her aunt. There's also a couple in Ravenclaw, but those are minor misfits. As far as I know he wanted Potter and a chosen selection of 'friends' with the Lions, and all the little Death Eater kiddies collected in Slytherin, never mind if they were actually suited for it or not."

"I … see. What about other years?"

"It was only that one year, fortunately. It wasn't exactly _easy_ for him to force me, you know. It took a great deal out of him," it stated proudly. "They knew what good spell-crafting was, in the founder's days," it added with a sniff. "Also most of those he was concerned about were in that year anyway. So he didn't try again."

"How … fortunate, indeed," the witch said stiffly. "But how Albus could dare to do something like this in the first place, even if it was 'just' one year ..."

"All for the 'Greater Good', no doubt," Severus retorted, with a scornful snort.

"It sure wasn't for the good of the kids," the Hat agreed.

"Is that why you spoke up now?" Minerva asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That was … unintentional," the Hat muttered mulishly. "I didn't mean to say anything! It just … slipped out."

"So you merely … _accidentally_ mentioned something we were bound to overhear now while Albus was away and you got both of us alone?" Severus commented, with a predatory gleam in his dark eyes.

"Exactly," it said, bobbing its tip in agreement.

"And totally not because you simply could not stand the injustice and the lies anymore?"

"Certainly not!"

"Right ..."

"I didn't!"

"Sure ..."

It gave them an impressive eyeless glare, grumbled something uncomplimentary about greasy hair and tucked itself up into its brim. If it were human, it would have folded up its arms and given them the cold shoulder.

"Oh, stop needling it, Severus, it obviously only wanted to do what is right."

"Well, if it keeps this up, a needle is exactly what it is going to need!"

"And stop making bad puns! This is serious."

"Yes, it is. What are we going to do, Minerva?"

"I'll be damned if I know."

They both stared at the sulking hat.

Because that was the real question. What were they going to do?

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oOoOoOoOo

AN: I love stories where Harry gets resorted. Unfortunately, there are actually rather few of those around, and even fewer good ones. On top of that, most are either time- or dimension-travel stories, or ones where Harry is forced to assume a different identity. Resorting stories where Harry stays himself are quite rare, and also frequently short and unfinished. So in case anyone knows of any good ones, especially off-site where I might have missed them, please let me know!

The story is set at some point during fifth year after Severus has started Harry's Occlumency lessons, but before Umbridge takes over the school. The assumption is that Dumbledore was called away for a couple of weeks, leaving Hogwarts in the hands of his deputy. And obviously for the sake of this story, while the Hat would have pointed out Harry's potential suitability for Slytherin, it did not actually try to place him there. After all, it was being coerced by Dumbledore, who had the final word.

This tale will also largely centre around the teachers, in particular Minerva and Severus. Who are totally bad-ass. Because really, they should be. It was also inspired by the excellent story 'I did nothing' by Secre, which also features Minerva and Severus working against Dumbledore with the help of their fellow heads of house. Aside from that element, however, I believe this story will play out quite differently. It will also only deal with the two weeks of the headmaster's absence, and culminate in his return. So unless my characters end up spending entire chapters just talking with each other (which they might, wouldn't be the first time), the story shouldn't take too long to finish.

Oh, and the Dumbledore in this story is still not evil. He is merely very controlling, manipulative and willing to play god, because he thinks he knows what's best. For everybody. In many ways, he truly has the very best of intentions. But we all know where _those_ lead, so …

oOoOoOoOo


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

They had retired to Minerva's rooms, where they were currently trying to improve the state of their nerves with the help of a nice bottle of Single Malt. As usual, Severus felt mildly overwhelmed by the overly red and plaid décor of her sitting room, but some sacrifices obviously had to be made for the sake of quality alcohol. Neither of them had wanted to stay in Albus' office after that shocking revelation. They had also taken the Sorting Hat with them, since it had pleaded for sanctuary. It was currently cowering amongst Minerva's hat-boxes on top of her wardrobe, which seemed to give it a sense of comfort.

"What a mess," the witch moaned, clutching her tumbler hard and shaking her head in distress. She still looked unnaturally pale.

"Hmm," Severus agreed vaguely, reaching for the bottle to refill his own glass.

"The question is … what do we do? What can we do? We can't simply leave things as they are!"

Severus set the bottle back down carefully, staring at the label with unfocused eyes. "I am still trying to wrap my head around what it told us. Because some of them are obvious, but … Harry Potter? One of my Snakes? I find that _very_ hard to believe."

Minerva snorted. "Of course you would, since you persist in seeing his father when you look at the poor bairn. Now _James_ was a true Gryffindor. But trust me, Harry is far more like his mother, if he is like one of them at all. I mean, it's not as if either of them had the raising of him. And if his relatives really abused him on top of that ..." she said with a very pointed look at her colleague.

He sighed unhappily, feeling oddly conflicted. "Maybe," he admitted. "But the other question is … do we actually need to do anything?"

She gave him a fierce glare.

"Yes! Because this is all … twisted. Some of those kids have probably adapted well enough, yes … but just as likely there are also those who haven't. And they would be struggling every day. Quite unnecessarily so. But first thing first … we need to confirm if what it told us about Harry is true."

"It simply seems so unbelievable … and far-fetched," he objected. Because really, how could _Prince Potter_ possibly be abused, some part of him whispered with habitual disdain.

"Would you seriously want to leave _Lily's_ son with abusive relatives, if it is the truth?" she challenged him harshly. "Will you shut your eyes to the very possibility because you cannot bear to change your distorted view of her son?"

Severus closed his eyes momentarily, feeling pained at the reminder. "That was a low blow, Minerva," he ground out. "But no, of course not."

"I thought so. So t _hat's_ our first order of business. And if we can confirm that … we must assume the rest is true, too."

"But what can we do if he really has a piece of the Dark Lord in his scar?"

The very thought scared him. He did not want to admit it, but it was the biggest reason why he desperately hoped the whole thing to be nothing but a fabrication. Unfortunately, it made no sense whatsoever for the Sorting Hat to tell them lies … and if anybody would know, it was indeed that ancient piece of enchantment. He really did not want this to be true. Any of it. Because the idea of a Slytherin Potter … an abused Slytherin Potter … an abused Slytherin Potter with a piece of the Dark Lord inside him … was truly, deeply disturbing.

He wondered if Albus had known of this. Because it might account for why he had apparently gone to such lengths to keep the boy away from Slytherin. He might have feared Potter would become another Dark Lord if not steered away from the house of ambition and ill repute. He sighed inwardly. Either the headmaster had been incredibly short-sighted in his solution, attempting to solve a problem by covering up the symptoms …

Or else he had entirely different plans for Potter. Why solve a problem, if you don't intend for the boy to actually grow up into one? And then there was that blasted Prophecy, too ...

But those were not thoughts he would share with Minerva just yet. Not until they were actually sure. He did not even want to think about it himself.

The witch in question meanwhile had averted her gaze, clearly discomfited. "I have no idea," she admitted softly. "The very idea is horrifying. However, there is no point in worrying about it for now. Not until we have found out a lot more about all of this. Though ... didn't Albus force you to teach him Occlumency? Because there is some kind of strange connection to You-know-who?"

"Indeed. Though so far the results have been … unsatisfactory."

"Maybe you should re-examine and change your teaching methods then? Especially in the light of what we learned tonight? The normal means of Occluding might not even work for him, given that connection. Also if he _is_ abused, and you didn't manage to catch that ..." she raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"You are … correct," he admitted after a thoughtful pause. "So far I have mostly seen memories from Hogwarts. Very little of his childhood. And by rights I should have seen something by now. Which means either there is nothing to find … or he is hiding it … successfully."

"Right then. First order of business … confirm the truth about Harry's relatives. If that turns out to be true … well, we have two weeks without Albus to start fixing this whole mess," she said with a shake of her head. "But if it's true … Albus, Albus, how could you?"

Severus merely nodded glumly, staring into his tumbler.

"But how can we go about confirming what it told us about Harry? Do you think he will tell us the truth if were to ask him?"

He sighed. "Even if it is true, he is likely to deny it, given that until now no-one suspected anything," he pointed out.

"And he is possibly hiding it from your Legilimency, too."

"He could be repressing it. Hiding it even from himself."

"Which would be _so_ very much better than him actually succeeding to some extent at Occlumency?"

Severus rolled his eyes at her heavy sarcasm, but then sighed again in defeat.

"Of course not. In either case he obviously does not want it found out, no matter if he is hiding it deliberately or not. And therefore he is highly unlikely to just tell us if we ask him."

"So what would you suggest we do?"

"Isn't it obvious? We pay his relatives a surprise visit. See if we can find any signs pointing to mistreatment. And if so I shall take great delight in looking into their minds to confirm the truth of it," he added with a nasty gleam in his dark eyes.

"That should work, yes. So … tomorrow morning?" Minerva suggested tentatively.

"Yes. We will have to forgo breakfast, I fear. That will make for a _short_ visit, but if we find something worthy of further investigation we can always come back later. Right now we need to move fast."

"Aye. If we end up doing some re-sortings, we need the result too firmly entrenched by the time Albus returns for him to be able to undo our efforts."

"Indeed," the wizard agreed, smiling dangerously.

"You are looking forward to that, aren't you?"

"Don't you?"

"Oh, aye."

Because no-one meddled with their little Lions and Snakes. Or any Badgers and Eagles, for that matter. You had to draw the line somewhere. And the Greater Good made for a lousy argument when it came to the welfare of their pupils. Their children, who were not pawns to be sacrificed for the convoluted plans of an old chess-master. The headmaster wouldn't know what hit him.

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oOoOoOoOo

They snuck out of the castle early the next morning, feeling rather like unruly teenagers going out after curfew. Not that two heads of house couldn't leave the castle anytime they wanted. They simply didn't want anyone to take note of their absence. Of course they would be missed during breakfast, but there were always minor emergencies to invent which could have prevented them from attending. And no-one was likely to suspect the Lioness and the Snake of conspiring together. In any case, the one most likely to suspect anything at all was gone for now. The rest of the staff would be too busy avoiding Umbridge to worry about the two absent heads.

It still vaguely felt like they were doing something illicit.

Once they were beyond the gates, Minerva transfigured her robes into sensible tweeds and an overcoat, before giving Severus a pointed look. The Slytherin's expression turned sullen.

"How about a nice black trench-coat?" she suggested, smiling sweetly at her reluctant colleague.

He muttered something about playing to the muggles.

"Oh, stop sulking, Severus, or I'll put you into a pink cardigan."

"You wouldn't dare," he spluttered, glaring at her.

"So … trench-coat, was it?"

He sighed and nodded in defeat.

One transfiguration and apparition later, they were walking down Privet Drive arm-in-arm. Severus gave the dismally similar houses a disdainful look.

"How very nice and _proper_ ," he drawled with a sneer.

"Aye. Makes you wonder what they would do to someone who didn't fit into a nice and proper mould. They were the worst kind of muggles even when Albus left him with them."

"Were they now?"

"Shouldn't you know? I thought you knew Lily's family?"

"I always thought her parents were very nice people," he said defensively.

"Merlin, you don't know?" she exclaimed suddenly, stopping and turning towards him.

Severus raised an eyebrow and looked mildly confused. "Know what?"

"That they both died even before the Potters were attacked."

The wizard suddenly appeared horrified.

"No. Nobody ever told me. But … that means … he was left with _Petunia_?" he spat, sounding outraged.

She nodded. "And her husband and son."

"By all that's precious … no wonder then. I had a hard time lining up _Lily's parents_ with abuse, but Petunia …"

He looked like something had broken in him. Minerva put a comforting hand on his arm and gave it a gently squeeze.

"Well, that's why we are here. And if it's true … then we have a lot to rectify, don't we?"

"And Albus has even more to answer for," he ground out. "Letting me believe the boy was the spoiled apple of her parent's eyes …"

"Well, it fits with the rest of the pattern, doesn't it?"

"It also makes me fear all the more the dratted hat was actually _right_ ," he told her morosely.

"There is that, aye. So ..."

"Let's get on with it."

Soon afterwards they were standing in front of Number 4, and Minerva rang the door-bell. They had to wait a couple of minutes before a thin woman with a disgruntled face opened the door rather forcefully. "What do you want," she began sharply. And then her expression changed into one of pure loathing. "You!"

"Hello, Petunia," Severus purred, and his smile at seeing the woman blanch abruptly in obvious fear as he pointed his wand at her was quite evil. "We just wanted to ask you a few questions ..."

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oOoOoOoOo

They were slowly walking up the path to Hogwarts, both lost in their thoughts.

"How did we not spot this, Severus? Were we really so blind?" Minerva asked after a while.

The man next to her shrugged, his eyes going back and forth as if looking for ambush or someone spying on them almost automatically.

"By now I rather suspect we actually did spot it," he finally said with a grimace.

"What?"

"At the very least Poppy should have noticed something, given how often he was in her care. And she would have informed you, as his head of house," he continued without acknowledging her exclamation.

"What _are_ you suggesting?" she asked, halting him with a hand on his sleeve.

He turned and met her eyes. "If Albus was willing to cast an _Interdictio_ on the Sorting Hat, potentially destroying it … do you think he would have baulked at using a little _harmless_ _Obliviate_ on us now and then?" he drawled, his voice full of sarcasm. "After all, we do it to the muggles without a second thought, when they see something they should not."

Her expression turned horrified, and she pressed a hand to her lips. But then the horror in her eyes turned to rage, and he listened with some amusement as she spat out a colourful string of old Scottish curses. When she finally calmed down again a bit, she gave him a look full of anger mixed with determination.

"He did. He bloody well did! I can't remember exactly, of course, but I _do_ remember going to him … several times. At least at first. After a while … it seemed unimportant. Like Harry was just doing it to get attention ..."

He nodded. "Exactly. That's what I always thought, too. Though Albus probably had it easier in my case ..."

"Aye. The poor bairn's face wouldn't have helped your resistance."

He sighed. "No. Still, I know a lot about … abuse. From personal experience, and having to spot it in my little Snakes. I cannot believe I really never noticed any of the signs."

"Harry seems to be quite good at hiding them, though."

"Maybe we should check if he was not in fact _compelled_ to hide them."

She cursed again. "At this point, I wouldn't put anything past the old fool! Wasn't there a potion to recover memories, though?"

"Indeed. I already intended to brew it today. It likely will not recover everything ..."

"Yet _anything_ is better than nothing, at this point," she finished for him, looking up at the castle now looming in front of them. "Fancy another drink while we hash this out, Severus?"

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oOoOoOoOo

"So what are we going to do, Minerva?" Severus was the one to ask this time, sitting down and accepting a glass from his Gryffindor counterpart.

She took a long sip from her own drink, staring down pensively into the tumbler afterwards. Finally she sighed and put it down, lifting up a finger.

"One: you will brew the memory restoration potion, and we will both take it tonight. Hopefully we will know a bit more tomorrow."

He nodded in agreement. "It has a decent chance to work for both of us, you because you are an animagus, and me because of my mastery of Occlumency."

"Good. Two," and she lifted a second finger. "We talk with Filius, Pomona and Poppy. They probably ought to take the potion as well."

"Hmm. Anybody else who is likely to have been affected?"

"Of the teachers … possibly Hagrid, who isn't particularly important right now, or Remus Lupin, who isn't here any longer. Quite likely also Harry and his friends."

"It would not surprise me. There could also be compulsions on them …" Severus abruptly broke off, his expression troubled. "Minerva? Would you kindly check _me_ for compulsions? I might have broken some of them by myself, but ..."

"Why would you really have treated _Lily's_ son so horribly, even if he looks just like James?"

"Or behaved so badly towards any non-Slytherin students? I know I am biased, but I would not have thought I am quite _that_ bad by myself."

The witch took out her wand and performed a series of spells, some of them involving long chants. Her expression grew progressively darker at the results she received. Finally she looked straight at him.

"You are right. On all counts. They were there, and you have indeed already partly broken some of them. But I would suggest waiting until after the memory potion to remove them fully."

He indicated his agreement with a resigned wave of his hand. "Should I check you?"

"You had better. But if he dared ..." the sentence ended on an almost feral hiss. Severus noted the way she flexed her fingers again. He refrained from commenting and simply repeated the same series of spells on her.

"And?" she asked once he was finished and returned his wand to the holster. He sighed.

"Mostly compulsions to make you more loyal to Albus. As well as pay less attention to what is going on around you. And quite insidiously, something which would make you doubt anything Mr. Potter told you."

"Curses! He really goes to far. The Greater Good be damned! And ..." she suddenly paled and horror crept into her eyes.

"What is it?"

"Harry. He came to see me … about the toad's detentions," The witch began slowly, appearing utterly devastated.

"What about them?"

"You are aware how many he has had? However, I fear … she is doing something to hurt him, physically. I am not sure what, because I blew him off, and just told him to keep his head down. But did you notice how he keeps cradling his hand? I am almost positive I have seen him with bandages ..."

He sighed again, feeling something cold claw at his heart. "So have I. And I have also noticed him favour one of his hands."

"Damn the old codger! His meddling knows no end! And the worst, that because of it, I was made an unwitting accomplice! Curses on the old goat! May his own beard come alive in the night and strangle him!"

Severus had never seen Minerva so angry. She had gotten up and was pacing about, visibly fuming. If she were in her animagus form, she would be arching her back and spitting in rage.

"It is indeed inexcusable."

"Aye! And I dinnae care anymore if he is the only one who stands between our world and You-know-who! He behaves as if we were naught more than measly pawns on his chessboard! In some ways he is worse than your Dark Lord. At least _Riddle_ never told anyone he was doing it for their own good!"

"Still, we need to take him into account."

"Take down Albus, and make sure Fudge goes down with him. And then put someone like Amelia Bones in his place. Someone who will actually _do something_! The Ministry has plenty of resources to combat Riddle! Even if we can't defeat him in person, how much of a threat is he without followers?"

He contemplated this idea seriously. Because she was right, there was not that much a single man could do, especially one who was little inclined to risk himself. "You make a good point, Minerva. With most of his marked followers out of the picture, he would hardly be be such a big threat."

"Aye. Especially if he was forced on the run or into hiding! And the Aurors _could_ take down the Death Eaters, if it wasn't for the hemming and hawing and denying the Minister is doing! But they need to do it _now_ , before he gains too many new followers! As for you..."

She suddenly whirled, pointing a bony finger at him. He shrunk back involuntarily.

" _You_ would serve much better by telling the Aurors everything you know about Riddle and his followers! You know about most of them. Where to find them. How to trap them. And you could also turn your house against him, if you could but speak openly. You have the ear of your Slytherins, yet until now you were almost forced to promote loyalty to Riddle in order to keep your sodding precious _cover_."

He stared at her. Eyes gleaming almost fanatically, shoulders squared back righteously, head thrown back proudly in challenge. She looked like some ancient goddess of battle and retribution in that moment. Well, if any of those could be found in a slightly shabby, comfortable Gryffindor-themed sitting room, with her hair in a tight bun and wearing sensible shoes. But give her a spiked chariot and a spear …

"I cannot say I would mind not having to go back to that madman," he finally said after staring at her for long moments. "Spying is not very good for one's health. I would also dearly love to keep my little Snakes out of his clutches."

"And maybe it would also help, if some of the information you could give them reached their parents through them … especially about Riddle's true history and back-ground?"

"It doubt it would lead to defections amongst those already marked … but it would doubtlessly make it far harder for him to recruit the ones who are as yet undecided," he agreed readily. "Especially if the Aurors were also moving against the marked Death Eaters."

"You could also do a lot of good for Harry, if you weren't forced to be so antagonistic to him."

He frowned at the very thought, feeling the revulsion rise inside him.

"Compulsions, remember? Yet who better than you to prepare him? Train him? You can be a good teacher when you actually try, Severus."

He nodded unwillingly. "I see your point. Still..."

"Say no more. At least not until we have our memories back, and the compulsions are completely gone. And then ..." her expression turned thoughtful again. "Well. Step three should be to resort the students. I think … if we can manage, we should isolate all the fifth years from the rest of the school."

He caught on immediately. "Yes. We do not want them to write home. Or any word of this to reach Albus prematurely."

"So we sequester them somehow. Which gives them a couple of weeks to get used to this, days which we can also use to get rid of any compulsions on them, and to teach them a thing or two."

"I agree. But we still need to figure out what to do about Albus. Or Potter."

She sighed. "Aye. That will have to be the next step. For the first … I believe we do need to get Amelia Bones on board to deal with the political aspect and the Ministry. However, we also need to find a way to oust Albus as headmaster. Maybe there are ways to involve Hogwarts itself. There are old magics spelled into the very stones of the castle … which might be invoked by the heads of house. There _must_ be a way to banish a headmaster who is deemed … unfit."

"While you are at it, see if you can find anything about getting rid of teachers who abuse their students."

Her smile was nasty. "What an excellent idea. I believe I shall hit the books on this while you brew your potion."

His answering smile was no less nasty. "I wish you the best of luck in your search. Which leaves … Potter."

" _Harry_ ," she stressed, an irritated look flashing over her face. "Never mind, until those compulsions are all gone you probably can't help yourself. I suspect we will need to find a way for one of us to get guardianship over him. Otherwise he might remain in Albus' clutches."

His expression must have turned horrified, for she rolled her eyes dramatically and patted his arms. " _Compulsions_ , Severus. We will talk about this once his mere mention doesn't trigger your aversion anymore."

"All right," he conceded with a sigh. Because the compulsions may have been half-broken, yet they were reinforced by habit now, and buttressed by his old animosity towards _James_ Potter. But the younger Potter was not a spoiled arrogant brat like his father had been. _Harry_ was an abused boy with way too much on his plate for one overwhelmed teenager without proper support. Even though he was an arrogant, attention-seeking brat, exactly like …

He looked at Minerva with a frustrated expression. She patted his arm again.

"Go brew, Severus. That part at least should be easier after tomorrow."

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oOoOoOoOo

AN: Well, I must say I was seriously blown away by the amount of interest this story received after just one measly first chapter! A big thank you to everyone who reviewed, favoured or followed this so far! I really hope I can do it credit in the future. I began writing this story a while ago, and finally decided to start posting it, though it is not quite finished, to hopefully give myself a break from obsessing about my main story. When I first started writing, I used to switch between stories, which seemed to be good for my creativity, so I am trying to go back to that pattern.

To pre-empt a possible question: was Dumbledore's directly responsible for the conflict between Severus and the Marauders? I would say no, the headmaster's bias towards Gryffindor would have been quite enough to keep the flames of that war going, which was created through the constellation of Marauders – Lily – Severus. However, once Harry entered the picture, Dumbledore seriously needed to keep him apart from Severus, for a variety of reasons. One of them being that Snape just made for the perfect Slytherin Bogey-man. Also if Harry had a reliable and competent adult to turn to, he might have acted differently … far less 'heroic' for one. So in order to keep the boy isolated and ignorant, Severus was compelled to see and hate him as a James reborn, instead of as Lily's last legacy.

Now of course in canon, this apparently happened all by itself anyway. I guess a fair few of us have wondered why Snape really behaved like he did. Personally, I find it at times hard to believe someone who was supposedly an accomplished spy could at the same time be so utterly blind to reality. However, since Rowling had cast him from the start as the potential villain, who could only be a good guy in secret, he just had to behave like that. Without an antagonistic Snape, a lot of her story just would not have worked out, I suppose. As his actual role in canon was forever in doubt until the very end, having a positive relationship with Harry was simply out of the question.

But fortunately, being able to rewrite things to what we would have wanted to happen is what fan-fiction is all about!

oOoOoOoOo


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

Minerva McGonagall had cancelled all her classes for the day. She strongly disliked doing so, but at the moment finding a way to dislodge Albus as headmaster simply had priority. There was little point in going through with any re-sortings if they could not make them stick in the long run. Which meant keeping Albus Damn Dumbledore from overthrowing everything the moment he returned. Quite aside from that, she also did not want to _ever_ see the old bastard anywhere near their children again. After all, there was no telling what else he might get up to in the name of the 'Greater Good', especially if he saw his plans threatened and became desperate.

So instead of heading to her classroom, she informed today's students they would have a free study period rather than Transfiguration. She also set them some chapters of their text-books to read and write an essay about. Just because they had no class, didn't mean they needed to be unproductive, after all. Unproductive students tended to be unruly ones, and thanks to Umbridge there was far too much of that going around already. Best to keep them busy. And therefore out of mischief.

Meanwhile Minerva visited both the headmaster's office and the library, looking for anything which might help with her task.

It took her longer than she had estimated to pick up everything she thought relevant, because it turned out there was unfortunately both far too much and at the same time far too little information available. Yes, there was no lack of books on various topics that _might_ be pertinent, from the school's by-laws to myths of the founders. But at least on first look, none of them seemed to be quite what she wanted. In the end, all the tomes she had amassed made for several daunting piles on her desk. Finding the information she needed appeared like an impossible undertaking. It would be like sifting through haystacks to find the proverbial needle.

She stared at the small foothills of books for long, frustrated moments, absent-mindedly tugging at a loose lock which had escaped her bun. Of course there were some handy library spells to search for key-words inside books. But they were no help whatsoever if you didn't know what to look for in the first place. Anything she could think of would give far too many results, with most of them unlikely to be what she wanted. She badly needed some way to narrow down her search.

What she wouldn't be willing to give to be able to just transfigure any old piece of straw into that needle … needle.

She suddenly smiled, went to the bedroom and took the Sorting Hat down from its perch amidst her hat-boxes. Ignoring its irritated, rather whiny protests with the long practise of the professional educator, she put it on her desk right in the middle of the old tomes. After settling herself down comfortably in front of it, she calmly anchored her elbows on the desk, interlaced her fingers, and fixed the Hat with a determined stare.

"Tell me, has there ever been a headmaster who was removed from the school by the heads of house? Or by the castle itself?"

That stopped the irritated grumbling. The Hat appeared to consider her question carefully, tilting its tip back and forth slowly.

"This is a kind of question … which I cannot really answer," it finally admitted.

"Because you do not know? Or because I ask with the intention of removing the current headmaster?"

It nodded its tip at her. "The latter, I fear. Yet this is not of Albus' stitching, but was woven in by the very founders themselves. Even though he tried to harm me, in this I must remain … loyal to him. Or his office, rather."

She sighed in frustration. "Could you give me some hints at least? So I know where to start?" she asked, indicating the piles of tomes towering around the Hat with a wave of her hand. "Any idea at all what to look for?"

It gave her another one of its shifty, eyeless non-glances, before wriggling its brim suggestively. "I hear the castle really doesn't like to see the students put in harm's way. Deliberate, intentional harm, that is."

"So it _is_ possible."

"Perhaps."

"Is that all you can tell me?"

The Hat twitched slightly. "You might ask the Baron," it offered after some moments of deliberation.

"About what? And why him?"

"The _what_ is up to you. But he is one of the oldest residents of the castle, and he does not respect Albus. Nor is he bound to obey him. But whether he will tell you what you seek to discover … I do not know."

"And you can give me nothing more? Nothing left to let accidentally slip?" she asked with weary sarcasm. Because she had really hoped for more than some vague suggestions ...

"Sorry, but that's all you are going to get from me."

"Darn," she growled, glaring at the papery hillocks in disgust. Still, she had another approach for her search now. But first she'd better get herself some lunch, since she needed to talk with the other two heads of house anyway. Oh, and Poppy as well. Afterwards, she would tackle those tomes. At least Severus would not have to disrupt his day too much for his task. According to him, he could easily brew the potion between holding lessons. Which was fortunate, as it would have drawn notice if both of them had to cancel their classes today. But if she knew the wizard at all, he would also be thinking incessantly about their problems, and plotting how to deal with them.

Tomorrow, they would hopefully know a bit more. And be able to expand their circle of plotters. The meeting with the other heads was easy enough to arrange. However, getting Amelia into the castle without arousing the toad's curiosity would be a challenge. The stupid b … witch might lack any redeeming qualities, but on top of that she was also paranoid. Minerva was pretty sure most means of communication were being monitored by now. They needed some inconspicuous pretext …

A sudden sound, rather like a suppressed sneeze, brought her out of her thoughts. In front of her, the Sorting Hat gave an odd little convulsion.

"Would you mind terribly putting me back?" it asked snidely. "I'd hate to catch mildew of this lot. Seriously, did you _try_ to find the dustiest, mouldiest tomes in the whole castle?"

"Hmm. Catch something … yes!"

Yes, that would indeed do nicely. And Severus was bound to know something … suitable. If memory served her correctly, the Marauders had rather suspiciously often come down with something debilitating just after their worst pranks on the Slytherin. There was never any proof, of course. But that was simply Severus for you, she thought as she absent-mindedly put the grumbling Hat back amongst the hat-boxes.

Because the dark-eyes wizard didn't only get mad, he also got even.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Poppy? I need you to give Mr. Potter a full medical examination tomorrow after breakfast."

"Oh? But why, Minerva?" the school's matron appeared puzzled. "And doesn't he have classes?"

"I don't care if he does, I will send him to you. And Poppy ..."

"Yes?"

"Do not say anything about the results. To anybody. In fact, don't even mention anything about the examination itself, either."

The nurse looked taken aback. "Do you expect me to find something ..." she began slowly.

"Frankly, yes. You will not like it. You never liked it."

"But ..."

"You have … forgotten. Severus is going to bring you a potion tonight. It might help you remember."

Poppy Pomfrey had progressed to looking horrified. "What are you saying, Minerva?"

"What I am saying is … wait. We will have a meeting of the house-heads tomorrow. We will talk about everything then. But most of all, no matter how much you might feel tempted to … _do not_ _contact_ Albus Dumbledore!"

"But ..." Poppy repeated, now decidedly wild-eyed.

" _Do not_! Take the potion, conduct Mr. Potter's exam tomorrow, and bring your results to the meeting. Oh, and make sure to pay attention to his hands. Tomorrow after lunch in Severus' quarters. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Minerva," the matron said meekly.

The other witch's eyes softened. "I am sorry, Poppy, for demanding this of you. But you will learn why … tomorrow. Though I suspect you will come to many of the correct conclusions of your own, if you should find yourself … remembering."

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oOoOoOoOo

"Filius? Pomona? I am calling a meeting in Severus' quarters for tomorrow after lunch."

The tiny charms master and the mistress of the greenhouses agreed readily enough to the request, though they were clearly puzzled when no further explanation was forthcoming.

"It is for the best if you don't know more beforehand, believe me. And ..." she hesitated.

"Yes, Minerva dear?" Pomona fluttered, with that seemingly permanent motherly concern, even towards someone her own age.

"Severus will have a potion for the two of you after dinner. Please do take it before going to sleep."

"But what will it do?"

Minerva's gaze was distant, and a faint frown marred her brow. "Possibly … nothing," she said slowly. "Or it might help you remember ... something." She returned her eyes to the face of the plump, motherly witch. "In which case … well, we will discuss it all tomorrow."

"Oh, well, if that's all it does then?"

"Yes, that is all," the Gryffindor witch told her Hufflepuff counterpart kindly. When she turned to leave, Filius skipped up next to her.

"So, what are we meant to remember?" he asked casually. There was nothing casual about his expression, though.

Minerva merely shook her head. "There might be nothing to remember. Or it might not work," she added. "But if it does … you will have part of your answer already. The rest … is better left for tomorrow, Filius. Trust me on this."

He gave her a searching look. "All right," he simply said. "Why meet down in the dungeons, though?"

"Because Severus is paranoid."

"Ah, yes."

"But sadly, not unjustified for once."

That earned her a sharp glance. And a resigned sigh. "I really hope you will satisfy my curiosity tomorrow then, Minerva."

"Oh, you can be assured of that."

He nodded at her and walked away.

"You may just wish I hadn't," she whispered when he was safely out of earshot.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Ah, good. I was not sure you would be joining us for lunch, Severus. Do take this seat, and try the excellent roast."

"Roast, Minerva? I would have expected you to have other concerns today," the wizard replied dryly, but he took the offered chair without protest. "Or much of an appetite, considering this morning's revelations ..."

"Yes, yes. But I require fortification."

"Oh?"

"I am about to scale a mountain of books, and if that was not enough, I also need to go speak with the one who haunts your dungeons ..."

"Is that so?"

"A certain felted friend of ours suggested it … which was unfortunately about the extent of help it would give me," she complained grumpily. "Apparently, it may not directly help with anything to _dislodge_ certain people who have outstayed their welcome ..."

"Hmm. The one you seek to talk with is … tricky, at the best of times. Did you want me to join you?"

"Do you think it would help?"

"Not necessarily. He hates being pressured ..."

"I shall give it my best shot alone then. Our friend intimated the haunt doesn't like … him," she glanced at the empty chair beside her. "I suspect playing on that angle may work best."

"Indeed. Unfortunately, bribery or blackmail does not work on those already departed from this world. Nor do they always respond to the same reasons as us mortals ..."

"Very true," she agreed with a sigh, remembering all too many fruitless conversations with the school's ghosts, quite a few of whom seemed to be stuck in a loop. "In any case, it is a long shot. I am hoping to find more concrete answers in the books, anyway."

"Ah, yes. Well, I can at least report my part is coming along nicely … currently it has to simmer for several hours. It should be finished around dinner-time."

"Excellent. I have already advised Filius, Pomona and Poppy … about the potion, as well as tomorrow's meeting."

He gave her a curt nod to show his understanding, and both concentrated on demolishing their lunch for the next few minutes. Finally Minerva put her cutlery aside, dabbed her mouth daintily with her napkin and glanced over to see whether Severus was finished as well. He returned her gaze, lifting his eyebrow questioningly as he set his own implements aside.

"Was there anything else you needed?"

"Actually yes," she said, lowering her voice and leaning closer. "I need to make a student sick ..."

"You _what_?"

"Or at least, appear to be so," she amended quickly. "The more spectacular the symptoms, the better. Though it should be something which can be cured quickly afterwards. However, it needs to look bad enough to justify me calling the student's guardian without arousing suspicion."

It was always nice when your fellow conspirator was quick on the uptake. At least his eyes immediately tracked to the Hufflepuff table, though the girl apparently had already finished lunch. When Severus glanced back at her, she gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"As little real suffering as possible, I suppose?"

"Certainly," she said firmly. "If it was all show, it would be even better. We do not wish to … upset anybody, after all."

"No, I would say not," he agreed with a wry twist of his mouth. "Well, I believe I might have something that suits your needs. Dinner?"

"That ought to work. I want her here tomorrow."

"But after we have talked with the others?"

"It would be preferable ..."

"Make it breakfast, then. That will allow me to tweak one of my recipes, as well."

"Whatever you think best, Severus," she replied demurely. "Oh, and did you brew enough of your potion for our younglings, too?" she added, glancing over to the Gryffindor table. As usual, Miss Granger was buried in a book, Mister Weasley was buried in his plate, and Harry … was actually looking at her. She averted her eyes again, only belatedly noticing that Severus had followed her gaze and was glaring in the boy's direction.

" _Severus_ ..."

" _Minerva_ ," he echoed her mockingly. "Do you really think _he_ ," he continued, gesturing towards the empty headmaster's chair. "Would actually have obliviated his own Golden Wonder-boy? And yes, I brewed enough for several more people."

"Good. Because I highly suspect so," she answered with a firm nod, putting a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm the rising ire before it could erupt. "And so would you, if it wasn't for those damnable compulsions making you see everything about Harry in the worst possible light."

She could almost see him fight with himself, as he gritted his teeth and actually looked miserable for a moment.

"I do hate this, Minerva. I really do. Tomorrow cannot come soon enough."

"It will my friend, it will … unfortunately we have a lot to do before it arrives."

"Indeed," he agreed, rising from his chair and offering her a hand up. "Shall we get back to it?"

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oOoOoOoOo

"I wonder what's up with those two?"

"Hmm? What do you mean, Harry?" Hermione asked, putting her book aside carefully and absent-mindedly picking up her fork to spear a lone roasted potato from the remains of lunch on her plate.

Her friend rolled his eyes at her and jerked his chin towards the teacher's table. " _Them_. They keep whispering, and looking all grave and concerned."

Hermione followed his gaze towards where Professors Snape and McGonagall were sat huddled together in somewhat uncharacteristic companionability. Of course the Potions master was sneering, like usual, but their head of house did not normally seem so sad. And then Snape turned slightly to glare at Harry, gesturing towards the empty chair of the headmaster. While McGonagall nodded earnestly in assent to whatever the wizard had said. Which was indeed … possibly worrisome. Though not as strange as watching the Gryffindor witch put a placating hand on Snape's arm, which caused him to … almost deflate?

"See what I mean?"

"Yeah ..." she agreed slowly, exchanging a long, thoughtful look with her friend. She'd certainly never before seen Professor Snape appear … chagrined?

"Wha' e' matter?"

She sighed. "Chew, swallow, _then_ talk, Ron," she admonished automatically, turning to glare at him. "Seriously, how often do I have to tell you?"

The red-head swallowed, washing his lunch down with a gulp from his goblet of juice. "Oh, don't be such a stickler, 'Mione."

"It's disgusting, how you guzzle your food, Ron Weasley! And worse, when you pig out like that, you never pay any attention, either."

"Attention to what?"

" _Them_ behaving strange," she said primly, pointing towards the … empty spot on the teacher's table.

"Hmm, very strange indeed," Ron guffawed dismissively. "Maybe you shouldn't spend so much time in your books, it's making you hallucinate now."

"No actually, Hermione is right," the third of the trio disagreed. "They _were_ behaving strange. And I don't like it. When strange things happen, they always seem to happen to me," he finished glumly.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said consolingly, patting his hand, while glaring daggers at their red-headed friend. "You don't know that. It could be anything! You really shouldn't be so pessimistic all the time."

"Try living my life."

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"Famous last words?"

She blushed. "Of course not," she blustered, catching herself. "Will you look at the time, though! We'll be late, come on ..."

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oOoOoOoOo

AN: You see that bit of Golden Trio interaction at the end? Yes, that was mostly for comic relief. And quite likely a bit stereotypical. However, it was also included to remind everyone that the students will be in this story, too, once the teachers are done plotting. Plus I like famous last words! There are nice listings of those out there, especially role-player ones. A rather good collection can be found at wfrp (google for 'canonical list of famous last words', because ffnet really does not like anything looking even remotely like a link). Amongst my favourites are: 'What do you mean, that was our _last_ torch?' and: 'I wonder what this button does?'. From the perspective of the Hogwarts motto, the words: 'We are in luck, the dragon is sleeping!' should probably be mentioned as well.

I continue to be amazed by how well received this story has been so far! It got even worse after the second chapter. Well, worse in a positive sense of course. Thank you everybody, so very much. I will try to keep it up!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

She went looking for the Baron directly after lunch, using the opportunity to keep plotting with Severus as they walked down to the dungeons together. They split off at his classroom … him for the first class of the afternoon, her to go ghost-hunting. She was quite eager to get some answers … provided there were any to be had. However, she was far less eager about having to get them from the creepy Slytherin ghost, who was not a great conversationalist at the best of times. She had debated with herself about dragging Severus along after all, on the off chance he might have a better rapport with the spectre, what with him being a Slytherin …

And because she felt slightly apprehensive about confronting the Baron by herself, truth be told. Which meant she went alone in the end, precisely for that very reason, because she didn't want to admit she _was_ apprehensive. Nobody ever said being a Gryffindor had to make sense. Besides, she was the deputy headmistress. Which, taken as an argument, also didn't exactly make sense, but … she was the deputy headmistress.

Unfortunately, finding that bl ... annoying ghost was easier said than done. There were any number of other things she found first, such as other ghosts (she personally rather detested that sanctimonious, overly cheerful friar), a couple of snogging students (a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff, oh dear, and what a positively Romeo and Juliet constellation … she made a mental note that an intervention with their families might become necessary at some point … right now she settled for firmly shooing them on and taking some points), a minor mess or two which had escaped both Filch' and the elves notice (it did not take long to call one of them to sort it out), a long stretch of wall decorated with some fairly well drawn if highly insulting graffiti (courtesy of that deuced eternal Slytherin – Gryffindor war, which was soon going to _end_ if she had anything to say about it), and Mrs. Norris together with Miss Granger's cat (she really did _not_ want to know what they had been up to … nor whether the castle would have to look forward to more orange, mean-tempered felines in the course of time). After she rescued a crying first year (who had managed to get lost on her way to Severus' classroom, and so late in the school year! She wrote the poor girl a note and resolved to give the prefects a good talking to), she finally came across her real quarry.

At that point, her earlier apprehension had quite resolved itself, overcome by the assorted sources of vexation she had encountered. Besides, she was a proud Scotswoman. Even her very name meant to be brave. She would _not_ give in to any irrational … concerns. Yet even as she drew herself up, ready to aggressively demand answers of the spectre hovering in front of her, her mind interrupted by replaying Severus' words: 'He does not like being pressured'.

Huh. Well, never let it be said a proud Scotswoman could not be diplomatic, too. As deputy headmistress, she'd certainly learned how to be polite and patient even when she really wanted to strangle people. Like obnoxious parents. Irritating colleagues. Highly annoying Board members. Albus Blasted Dumbledore. Even sometimes, to her shame, some of the students.

"Greetings, Baron," she therefore began rather stiffly, but perfectly courteous. "I would ask for your … insight."

Unfortunately, the dratted ghost did not appear to pay her any mind, and merely continued to stare down the corridor she'd found him in. A corridor devoid of anything interesting, simple cold, grey walls of stone stretching along until they were eventually lost in distant shadows. Just one of the many hallways criss-crossing the dungeons, turning it into a labyrinth for the unwary. It always reminded her of the Slytherin mindset. It was frequently easy to get lost in their argumentations, too, when they took unexpected turns.

"You see," she continued, abandoning her wretched attempt at circumspection. She simply wasn't a Slytherin who delighted in riddles within riddles. Anyway, sometimes it was best to play your trump cards early. "We believe the headmaster … Albus Dumbledore, has strayed from doing his proper duty to the school and the students."

This declaration did cause the ghost to turn towards her. "Oh?" he asked hollowly.

Well, it was at least a reaction, if not exactly an enthusiastic one.

"He does not care if he puts the students in danger. He constantly plays games with all our lives, as if we were nought but chessmen on his board. To this end, he meddles with our minds and memories with no concern for any damage he may cause. Instead of protecting and caring for all in the school, he uses us for his own purposes. For that matter, he even neglects his duties as an administrator," she concluded with a sniff.

Because that was quite true as well. All too often the work was done by her. She might as well pick up the job herself, given how frequently she'd been the one to handle all the paperwork. And the Board. And the parents. It usually fell to her to administer punishments, too, and occasionally be frustrated afterwards when he overturned them again. And then he would offer tea and sherbet lemons, and hand out _Obliviates_ like they were candy, and all was right with the world again. His world at least. But no more.

"And what … insight is it you would expect me to give?"

The spectre still didn't sound particularly inviting, but then he never really did. However, she refused to let him unnerve her … even though his stare was quite disconcerting.

"We seek a way to remove him from office. However, since the school is the main bastion of his influence, he will not give it up willingly or easily. Thus we need to evict him despite his resistance. But … we do not know how. He is powerful, after all, and there are still too many loyal to him in our world. For too long he has pulled the blinds over everyone … even us, to our shame. It took the Sorting Hat speaking out for us to realise what he was doing. Yet it was unable to tell me how to get rid of him as headmaster. Which we need to do, so we may attempt to fix what he broke. However, the Hat suggested I should ask you ..."

There. While she had been quite direct and blunt in outlining her problem, she had at the same time not demanded anything outright of the ghost. Severus should be proud of her.

Not that it appeared to have worked, since the Baron merely continued to stare at her silently. Or actually more _through_ her. As if she wasn't there. Of course, such a behaviour was not unusual in a ghost. It was simply even more creepy than usual, down here in this grey, deserted hallway to nowhere. However, it was best to wait for a bit. The dead frequently did not perceive matters the same way as the living, one of them being time … of course, they had all the time in the world, and yet nothing to do with it anymore.

Just as she was starting to get irritated with his continuing non-response, wondering what else she might say to him, he finally spoke in his oddly echoing graveyard voice: "Did you ever wonder … why it was four? Four houses? Two high up in towers, two deep under the ground? Each a colour? Search out the connection … and methinks you may find your answer," he told her, still looking through her.

And that was all he would say, no matter how much she cajoled him.

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oOoOoOoOo

"So that's what you were talking about," Ron commented offhandedly as he stretched forward to snag a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"Hmm?"

"You know," he gesticulated towards the teacher's table with his free left hand while pouring … rather unsteadily … a goblet of juice with his right one. " _Them_. They sure don't sit so close together normally, and they keep whispering."

"Ah, that. My lunch-time delusion," Hermione said somewhat coldly. She still hadn't quite forgiven him for that one.

Ron coughed uncomfortably, setting the pitcher down and staring at it fixedly. "Okay, I get it. Sorry," he mumbled. "But how was I to know … they were not there!"

"There is this little thing called 'believing what your friends tell you'," she pointed out frostily. "Not that you have such a great record with that concept ..."

He flushed, whether out of anger or shame was hard to tell. Probably both. He didn't like being reminded of his past failings. Well, all right, nobody liked that. Ron just always demonstrated his dislike with this most unbecoming deep flush which did not go at all well with his hair-colour.

"I know. I get it, all right? Can we finally let bygones be bygones?"

"If you don't keep reminding us … sure."

"I just can't seem to help myself at times, all right? Sometimes I don't know myself why I say stupid things. It's like my mouth runs away with me ..."

By now he looked mostly angry. And no little frustrated, too. She rolled her eyes but decided to let it drop.

"It's okay, Ron. You can't help your temper and not being the most sensitive of guys, I can't help being a book-worm and bossy know-it-all, and Harry can't help being all moody and wanting to hide it when he's not fine," she said consolingly.

"He really isn't, is he?" Ron asked with a concerned frown, the flash of temper evaporating over their shared concern for their friend. Who was once again, obviously not fine at all.

"Harry?"

Their third just continued to stare listlessly at his plate, which was so far untouched. He appeared totally oblivious, clearly lost in his own unhappy little world. This kept happening more and more as the year progressed. She understood, of course. All the stress of their O.W.L. year, and those horrible detentions with Umbridge, and whatever Professor Snape was doing to him in their 'remedial lessons', and the obnoxious behaviour of far too many of their fellow students, and the Prophet's smear campaign, and ... everything, really. He also didn't eat properly, and she was pretty sure he was sleeping badly, too.

But since all he would ever say was that he was fine …

It was difficult to do anything to help him. It also didn't help he was such a brooder by nature. And that there was nobody he could really turn to, aside from them. That thought always made her heart hurt a bit.

Because there were adults who should be there for him, in theory. From Sirius to the teachers … however, the reality was usually sadly lacking. Unfortunately, there was only so much Ron and her could do. But at least she could make sure he didn't starve himself. She sighed unhappily. If only she knew how to do more for him.

"You need to eat something, Harry," she chided mildly, putting a hand on his arm. This finally got his attention.

"Uh, what?"

"You need to eat, Harry," she repeated, gently pushing his unresisting hand towards the serving platters.

A quick glance showed that once again those two teachers had vanished from their table. No need to mention it then, he was far too dispirited right now as it was. And if it involved her friend … then it did. If it didn't … it didn't.

They'd probably find out when the … manure hit the fan.

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oOoOoOoOo

Riddles. She hated bloody riddles. And obviously Riddle, too. This was the main reason why the Hat had put her in Gryffindor in the end … instead of Ravenclaw. Because she was no good at guesswork, or finding her way through highly abstract reasonings. Her nature was just too straightforward for that. Yes, she could plot with the best. Yes, she was very good at chess. But working out what to do next, and what the response to the response to the response was likely to be, simply wasn't the same thing as solving riddles. And a riddle was exactly what the Baron had given her, damn him.

Which he was already anyway, damned by his own guilt over whatever horrendous misdeed had seen him turned into a ghost.

Minerva groaned in frustration, throwing down her quill onto a parchment filled with aborted calculations which went nowhere. The scholarly part of her mind had immediately thought of Arithmancy, but that had not helped at all. Yes, four was an important number, and it had to do with balance. But she just knew the answer had to be far simpler. As well as probably really glaringly obvious. Which was why she couldn't spot it. Severus had been no help either, when she'd told him about the Baron's riddle during dinner. At least he had assured her he would indeed be able to make poor Susan ill. Sort of ill. Display symptoms of illness, anyway.

Then after dinner she'd been forced to endure Umbridge, who had first simpered at her and then demanded to know why she'd cancelled all her classes. And why she hadn't been at breakfast. Minerva really hated that officious, narrow-minded, boot-licking toad. It would have been ever so nice to strangle her, oh yes, or at least hex her into the next century. But no, she had to act all grave instead and dish up her prepared story about a problem caused by Peeves. As deputy, she obviously had been the one forced to sort it all out … and it conveniently accounted for her going to speak with the Baron as well.

It wasn't as if the b … witch could question their resident Poltergeist, who didn't like her. He was far more likely to pelt her with something unsavoury and run off than answer the toad.

Unfortunately, the minor triumph of pulling one over her hated … colleague had not sustained her long once she returned to her quarters and resumed her task. After an afternoon immersed in dusty old tomes, she now knew a lot more about the rights, obligations and general rules governing the teaching staff of Hogwarts. Which meant Umbridge at least would most definitely be gone very soon. Provided they actually did this one by the books.

Because thanks to the toad's connection to the Minister, they would be able to use her transgressions to much better effect than simply removing her. Oh, yes, indeed.

Unfortunately, the situation with Albus proved much trickier. Minerva had not even been able to determine exactly how a new headmaster was chosen … much less how one would go about replacing one. The truth was, headmasters and -mistresses tended to stay in office over long periods of time, due to the longevity of wizards and witches. A change-over did not happen very often, and was frequently only due to the death of the prior headmaster.

Therefore, just like the sorting ceremony, the choosing of a new head for the school was rather shrouded in mystery. Of course, in recent times the Ministry had attempted to put its fingers in, and the Board had also increased its influence. Yet for someone to truly become the headmaster, apparently something more was needed than merely the approval of Board and Ministry. She highly suspected she had not actually found all the existing books on the subject. And that both the present, as well as some of the past headmasters, might have conspired to keep themselves in power by making it very hard to find any such information, too.

Add the fact that the Hat, the portraits and most of the ghosts were forced into secrecy by old spells and it became entirely frustrating very fast.

At the moment, her best choices seemed to be a direct, public confrontation with Albus, to force him to step down by himself … or solve the Baron's riddle, which hinted at some other solution.

A solution which was staring her in the face, she was sure of that. She was also positive she was looking at this particular problem in a far too complicated way. She needed something more basic. Something basic which was simply eluding her. Pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, she tried to get her tired brain back into gear. She would give this one more try, and then head to bed. If all else failed, she could always ask Filius for help tomorrow. Which might have been the thing to do from the start, come to think of it. Ah well, it was too late now.

Right. Let's think this one through one more time, but let's keep it as simple and fundamental as possible, Minerva.

What came in fours? Hmm. Well most obviously, the seasons. The circle of change and balance. Of growing and dying, and cold and warmth. Which ... actually felt close, but was not quite right somehow. What else was connected to the houses, that no-one thought about much? Something truly basic? Something elemental ...

 _Elemental_ …

She groaned again and smacked herself on the head. Really, they'd gotten so involved with turning magic into an art, a science even, that they had all but forgotten what it started with. Which was living with the seasons, and struggling with the hostile _elements_. Once magic had been all about mastering those elements, long before such complications as Transfiguration and Charms and Arithmancy were even dreamed of. Magic had started with looking for water and lighting fires and making sure your sails had wind, and that your plants would grow well.

But it was the obvious answer to the Baron's riddle. Two up high … air and fire. Two underground … earth and water. Each a colour … red for fiery Gryffindor, blue for airy Ravenclaw, yellow for earthy Hufflepuff, and green for watery Slytherin. Still … how could this help them remove Albus?

Well, given the age of the school, there were quite possibly old elemental magics woven into the very construction of the castle. And looking at it from this new perspective, the fact that there were not only four founders, but four founders whose personality each represented one of the elements … suddenly didn't appear like random chance _at all._

Of course it could have been, and they simply made it work in their favour. But equally as well it could have been the hand of fate, striving for balance in magic. Maybe it had even been magic itself, looking for champions. They could also have been carefully selected by whatever magic community there was in that time for those very qualities. Or maybe one of them had sought out the other three deliberately.

To make them into a circle of elements.

To complement and complete each other.

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oOoOoOoOo

Fortunately, shoved right to the back since she had concentrated on rules and laws in her earlier search, her foothills also yielded several tomes which touched on the subject of elemental affinities, and the definitions of those elements.

In the light of what she found there, the gulf between Gryffindor and Slytherin seemed even more serious. Because they were meant to balance each other, to complement and off-set their counterpart … and they were clearly failing at that. Instead of finding harmony together, like two dancers, they were constantly in conflict. Worse, the virtual exclusion of one of the four from the overall harmony was most worrisome. Especially since it was the very element which was most meant to balance the others. The one meant to be calm, thoughtful, patient and peaceful. Because while earth could provide a solid anchor, it was also far too static in many ways. Too unmoveable in its principles. Only together with water could it serve as a proper counterpoint to flighty air and unruly fire.

Yet something had clearly gone awry. Because not only had the knowledge about the elemental associations been … lost at best, or been suppressed, at worst. Even worse, the house of water had been turned into the house of ambition for power and blood-superiority. Which was simply all kinds of wrong.

Not only because of the missing balance. No. But also because Slytherins naturally made for the best peace-time leaders. Air was too flighty, and earth too much of a follower by nature to properly do the job. And fire might be great in times of conflict … but it lacked the staying power and ability to _compromise_ to be any good during normal times. So by isolating the Slytherins, they had deprived themselves of their best natural leaders.

Of course, many of them had ended up in such positions anyway … yet thanks to the disregard their house had fallen into they lacked something important. Namely the _trust_ of those who were meant to follow their leadership. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when or how it had started, but over the years, this had all become a most vicious downward spiral. Slytherins like Riddle had only served to aggravate the situation, to the point where one fourth of their population was now mistrusted and reviled, for the very qualities which should make them respected and looked up to.

It was an unholy mess, which made the one created by Albus almost pale in comparison. Yet she couldn't even blame him for this one … well, she could blame him for making it even worse … because it had clearly started a long time ago. Possibly the very day Slytherin had left Hogwarts … or the myth of him leaving in disagreement had started. History was written by the winners, after all.

Speaking of history … how had all this become so forgotten? Been permitted to slip into the mists of time? Binns apparently had a lot to answer for, too, because instead of teaching History of _Magic_ , he really only taught History of the Goblin Wars. And right here and there, she resolved to find a way to get rid of the old ghost. Because one apparently unimportant class had obviously done quite a lot of damage over the years. As for the further harm caused by ignoring recent history, as well … she didn't even want to think about that one.

No. This school desperately needed a good history teacher. Preferably someone entirely unbiased about the houses, too.

The houses of the elements …

This was maybe also another reason why the Hat had risked speaking out now, despite the _Interdictio_ affecting it. Because it looked like the sorting had far deeper reasons than merely matching the personality of your house-mates. It was apparently also about elemental affinities. All wizards and witches had those to some degree, though these days nobody paid it much attention anymore. And while most people belonged to more than one element, some almost personified only one of them. _That_ seemed to be the original rationale behind the sorting of the students. One that had been entirely forgotten over time.

It might also be the reason why Harry's year was so very volatile. Out of balance. Inharmonic. Because that year was comprised of some quite strong young mages, and heirs to several old families. Those were the ones most likely to have a strong affinity … and to sort them somewhere unsuitable was problematic for more reasons than them merely not fitting in well. She would have to run this idea past Filius, who was the one most likely to have an idea, but it seemed possible to her that forcing strong, opposing elemental affinities into constant close proximity might even be harmful in some ways.

Of course she might be overreacting now. Seeing problems which were not actually there, because she was so very tired. Best if she went to bed, took her potion and found some rest. Tomorrow would likely be an even more stressful day. Yet as she got up from her chair, stretching to work the kinks out of her back, her eyes lingered with satisfaction on one particular tome resting prominently in the middle of her desk. One which had already provided her with several ideas … and might possibly, with some tweaking, also give a solution to their problem with Albus.

Its title read, engraved deeply in flaking gold lettering on an old, handsomely tooled leather cover: 'On the Invocation of Elements: Ancient Rites and Rituals.'

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oOoOoOoOo

AN: I am aware that the usual correlation of colours with the elements in the western system is fire and red, air and yellow, water and blue, and earth and green. I do not know if the change in the Harry Potter books is because Mrs. Rowling did this deliberately or not.

Maybe she used other sources which I am not aware of. Maybe she didn't do her homework properly. Maybe she simply liked it better this way. Maybe she wanted to defuse a too obvious connection between the houses and the elements. Maybe the Nargles told her to. Frankly, she wrote the books, and if she wanted them this way … who am I to argue? However, for the sake of this story, I have to pretend her distribution is the correct one. Even though as far as I am concerned, it isn't.

To give a selection of some traits of temperament associated with the elements, which also largely corresponds with the old medical system of humorism:

Air (sanguine/spring): Warm and moist

Clarity, independence, acuity, joy, kind-heartedness, lightness; dishonesty, gossipy, back-biting, inconstancy, touchiness

Fire (choleric/summer): Warm and dry

Enthusiasm, courage, daring, decisiveness; restlessness, anger, quarrelsomeness, irritability, passion, jealousy, violence

Earth (melancholic/autumn): Cold and dry

Consistency, perseverance, caution, responsibility, reliability, sobriety, ambition, carefulness; stuffiness, timidity, superficiality, laziness, indifference, cumbersomeness

Water (phlegmatic/winter): Cold and moist

Understanding, placidity, compassion, fervour, devotion, mildness, pliancy; indifference, heartlessness, indolence, lack of daring, lack of concern

Of course such lists of character traits vary according to the source, but they tend to follow a common trend. Yet even taking variations into account, it is still quite obvious to me that the houses of Hogwarts are pretty much based on this system. Which leaves me rather puzzled why so few stories actually explore that aspect. Yes, there are some that feature elemental magics of some sorts. However, stories working with the elemental association of the houses themselves seem to be even rarer than resorting stories … which is a pity. So once again: in case anyone knows of any good resorting stories, or ones which work out this aspect of magic, drop me a line!

Right. To finish this long author's note: THANK YOU!

Thank you everyone, because the positive responses to this story continue to amaze me. Thank you for all the reviews, and the amazing number of people who have favoured it or put it on alert after merely three measly chapters! I shall strive to continue to (hopefully) please you, and I promise to do my utmost to actually finish this thing.

oOoOoOoOo


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Oh, look, there are blueberry pancakes today."

"What? There are?" Harry asked with faked alarm, putting on a suitably disturbed expression at his friend's delighted exclamation.

"Do you have anything against blueberry pancakes?" Ron inquired incredulously, while piling his plate high with them. "Hmpf, hmm, delicious," he added, though the last word was rather garbled as he started to dig in.

Harry simply looked at him and sighed, nobly refraining from throwing Hermione's usual mantra of 'chew, swallow, _then_ talk' at the red-head. The girl in question was this morning too absorbed in her latest thriller … 'Modern Advances in Transdirectional Transfunctional Transfigurations' … whatever _that_ was, to correct their friend herself.

"I quite like the pancakes themselves, actually," he finally admitted, after watching Ron devour most of his plate in record time. "But I think the house-elves are psychic, because whenever they serve those for breakfast something awful tends to happen."

The red-head hesitated and gave the last remnants of pancake in front of him a distrustful glare, poking it with his fork. "Is that so?"

"Oh, _you_ should be fine. It's usually me who has this dreadful pancake-luck," Harry told him with a mournful expression.

"Are you _sure_ you aren't turning paranoid, mate?"

"Of course not," he replied with a straight face. "I've long ago gotten past the 'turning' stage. Constant Vigilance and all that, mate! But just you wait and see, something is bound to happen."

"But why blueberry pancakes?"

"Why indeed?" Harry said, putting on his best mysterious face. "Maybe we should ask Trelawney? You know, it could be a new kind of Augury … reading the innards of blueberry pancakes?"

"Erm ..."

"Or maybe they are possessed by evil berry spirits, and we need an exorcist?"

"You're having me on, mate, aren't you?" Ron accused suspiciously, throwing his friend a mock-glare.

"Hmm … maybe?" Harry admitted with a grin. For once he hadn't slept too badly, and then this excellent opportunity to poke fun at the red-head had come up ...

"Seriously," his friend commented with a shake of his head, though he selected eggs and bacon for his next plate-full. "Sometimes you are just plain weird."

"I live to serve. Anyway ..."

Harry never got to finish whatever he was going to say, because at that moment, a hideous gurgle came from the direction of the Hufflepuff table. The source was easy enough to spot. Susan Bones appeared to have some serious trouble breathing. The girl was clawing at her throat, looking decidedly unwell, and her face had turned an alarming shade of red. When she opened her mouth, desperately gasping for air, they could clearly see her swollen tongue was stained dark from blueberry juices.

"Merlin's soggy pants, you were right," Ron whispered irreverently, staring wild-eyed at the spectacle.

"But … I was only joking ..." Harry stammered, swallowing hard and giving the still half-filled serving platter of pancakes an equally wild-eyed glance.

The poor girl meanwhile was receiving the attention of Professors Snape, McGonagall and Sprout, all of whom had immediately sprung up from their table and hastened to the side of the unfortunate Hufflepuff. Snape proceeded to give her a potion which seemed to ease her breathing considerably, and was now solicitously helping the girl to her feet. Which was … odd? Since when did _Snape_ do solicitous? Maybe the teacher was having some weird reaction, too, because Harry noticed a strangely spacey look in the man's eyes when they flickered momentarily towards the Gryffindor table.

As Snape started to lead Susan from the hall, he quietly said something to McGonagall, and this time he actually stared directly at Harry. Yep, no doubt, there was definitely a weird look in the teacher's eyes. Though that was nothing compared to the unexpectedly angry expression of his own head of house, who joined the Slytherin in looking at Harry. Right. Ehm. Not good? Especially as McGonagall was now heading towards him, while Snape took Susan away, with Professor Sprout following behind the two of them like a worried mother-hen.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, Professor?" Harry squeaked, peering up at her nervously. Did she think he'd played a prank or something on Susan? He surely couldn't have accidentally jinxed those pancakes while trying to pull one over Ron?

"I need you to accompany me to the Hospital wing."

"Ehm … but … Professor, I swear, I had nothing to do with what happened with Susan! I was only joking with Ron ..." he argued anxiously, feeling very worried by now.

"Yeah, ma'am, Harry's not done anything wrong!" Ron joined in, unconsciously making placating gestures. "He was only joking about the pancakes being evil ..."

That seemed to momentarily stump McGonagall. "Pancakes? What does this have to do with … oh. No, Mr. Potter," she added. "This is not about the pancakes. Nevertheless ..." she concluded, making little shooing motions for him to get up. "Do come with me, if you'd be so good."

"Uhm, all right. But I really, seriously didn't do anything to Susan, I swear!" Harry repeated for good measure, slowly getting to his feet.

"Oh, I know _you_ didn't. Do not worry yourself about that. Now if you'd follow me, so we can get this over with," she told him, firmly taking hold of his arm and steering him towards the doors.

"Wait, what about class?"

"Never you mind, Mr. Potter. Sometimes, there are more important things than classes."

Left behind at the table, Ron Weasley gaped after her and stuck a finger in his ear to clear it. "Did I just hear _McGonagall_ say there is something more important than classes?" he asked disbelievingly, poking his other elbow into the side of a still oblivious Hermione. "Hey!"

"What? Don't disturb me, Ron, this is fascinating," the girl said without taking her eyes off her book.

"Figures, that you would miss hearing it," the red-head muttered exasperatedly. "Pity you'd never believe me if I told you."

"Believe what?" she asked sharply, finally looking up. "Hey, where did Harry go?"

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oOoOoOoOo

As she had arranged the day before, they all gathered in Severus' quarters after lunch. Well-warded, quite portrait-free, and with even the elves banished from the premises for the day, it made for the most secure meeting place. And now the four heads of house and the school matron were seated around a table on which rested, ironically, Albus Dumbledore's Pensieve. Which contained some of Severus' and Minerva's memories of the last day, to show their colleagues the rest of the truth.

Because from the way both Filius and Pomona had already been upset when they came down for breakfast, they must have worked out some of it by themselves. Clearly they had remembered … something. Probably not enough to make them realise the whole depth of Albus' tampering, but enough so they knew something was very wrong. And Poppy's expression when she showed up briefly in the Great Hall had been stormy indeed. The glare she gave Albus' empty chair had been so intense, it ought to have set it on fire.

Because Poppy _had_ found things in the past. And brought them to Minerva. Who had gone to the headmaster, several times, before the compulsions finally overcame even her stubbornness. She had been compelled to withdraw from her Gryffindors even before that, urged by subtle commands to turn an increasingly blind eye. Both to their escapades, and to their needs. She had, in fact, been compelled to _neglect her duties_. To ignore and neglect her charges, the children who had been entrusted to her care and guidance.

She had trashed an empty classroom before she could manage to show up for breakfast appearing reasonably calm. Severus, on the other hand, looked like he had overdosed on calming draught. There had been that slightly glazed look in his eyes. Which still changed to a murderous glare every time his gaze came to rest on the empty headmaster's chair.

Which had, despite Poppy and Severus, remained entirely uncombusted. A shame, really.

At least their little dramatic production revolving around poor, unsuspecting Susan had gone off without a hitch. It had been mildly amusing to find that Harry seemed to think it his fault. Apparently he'd been joking around with young Mr. Weasley … though she had not been able to figure out what exactly that had been about … and subsequently he kept trying to assure her of his innocence all the way to the Hospital Wing. Until she realised it was due to the way those beastly muggles had treated him. Because of that, the poor bairn apparently felt everything was his fault … or at least he expected to be blamed for everything.

Which made the whole thing suddenly seem decidedly less amusing. And it was yet something else she ultimately blamed Albus for.

Morning classes had consequently not gone well for her poor students. Who had not deserved having to deal with an enraged teacher who barely managed to hold her temper in check. After that, she truly had no appetite for lunch, and instead met early with Severus in his quarters, where they removed the remaining shreds of Albus' compulsions from each other. Which was far easier now, since they had been considerably loosened thanks to the restored memories and the sheer _rage_ they both experienced. They had both felt much relieved afterwards, if no less angry at the headmaster.

An anger which had simmered down to become less all-encompassing and more focused as the others arrived and they all shared the gist of whatever memories had come back to them. Minerva and Severus also told the other three of what they had discovered and done in the last two days, and showed them some of the more relevant memories.

The result really was a foregone conclusion. They were all agreed. Balance needed to be restored. The students would be resorted. They would find a way to cast out Albus Dumbledore.

Because the heads of house were not chosen on a whim. They were chosen for their magical acumen, and the strength of their commitment to Hogwarts and its alumni. They would not allow this travesty to continue. And so five excellent, well-schooled minds were put to serious plotting.

Albus truly would not know what hit him.

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oOoOoOoOo

"But what excuse can we give for sequestering all the fifth years _and_ the two of you?" Poppy brought up the one problem which definitely required a solution, and which so far was unresolved. At least Minerva had not been able to come up with a good reason.

She gave Severus an apologetic look. "Could we maybe orchestrate some potions accident?" she proposed tentatively.

He sneered back at her. "Why is that _always_ the first thing people suggest? Why not a nice little outbreak of something virulent instead?"

She threw up her hands. "Whatever. In either case the main question is why only the fifth years? _All the fifth years_ , for that matter. And worse, how to explain that the two of us are with them?"

"Hmm. How about some malfunctioning or miscast wards instead? Something like that could explain why you will be stuck for two weeks as well?" Filius offered.

"Now _that_ idea actually has potential. Though we still require a reason to bring the whole year into one place for this. Or where that place should be, for that matter," Severus admitted, thoughtfully tapping his chin with the long feather of the quill he was using to take notes.

"The north tower might be quite suitable. It used to be the old family quarters for married teachers, and there is large, currently empty room at bottom level. With nice, solid doors."

"That sounds about right, Poppy" Minerva agreed. "The elves should be able to prepare the place until tomorrow, since I believe it is in reasonably good shape. We can set the individual apartments up as dorms, and the ground floor as a classroom. And then … ah … yes!" She suddenly punched the air with her fist, a delighted gleam in her eyes.

"What did you just think of?" the potions master asked her warily. "You look, no pun intended, like the cat that got into the cream ..."

"The absolute _perfect_ plan!"

"Which is?" he drawled, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"We blame it all on the toad, of course," the Gryffindor witch declared with a wicked smile. "We take her with us, and blame the malfunction on her."

They all stared at her as if she had gone mad. Then their expressions turned thoughtful.

"Look, we plan to get rid of her anyway? As well as the Minister, who is the only one who would really question it. Plus this way she can't cause trouble for the school while we are gone either."

"But … do you intend to force her somehow?"

"Oh, not at all, Pomona. I think it will be easy enough to trick her into cooperating quite willingly. Though in all honesty, if I need to, I will use force. Frankly, that b... witch more than deserves it. You see, we discovered she had dared use a _blood quill_ on our students."

"She did … what?" the Hufflepuff exclaimed, clearly horrified. Filius looked outraged. Well, that horrible little detail hadn't been mentioned earlier since they'd focused on Albus.

Minerva smiled vindictively. "She tortured more than a few of the students with a bloody blood quill during her 'detentions'. She forced them to write lines with it until they bled. Poppy has even found a few who actually had the words carved permanently into the back of their hands, with Mr. Potter unfortunately being the worst case. But of course, for whatever mysterious reason, Albus kept us from acting against her as well," she explained, Poppy nodding in grim confirmation to her words.

The matron had obviously been spitting mad when she remembering about treating such wounds … and being made to forget it again. She would surely have immediately gone on the war-path against the toad if Minerva had not prevented her. However, Poppy was not stupid, and readily understood they needed to cleverly use Umbridge's crime in order to topple the Minister. But Minerva was sure the toad would be a very sorry amphibian indeed if the medi-witch ever got her fingers on the slimy woman.

"Exactly how do you propose to trick her, though?" Severus asked with deceptive calm. She strongly suspected he'd taken yet another calming draught before they started.

"I will simply inform her of a problem we encountered with the fifth years," she replied. "And ask her to gather them all … in the small assembly chamber. The bottom room of the tower will do well enough for that. As self-aggrandising as she is, she should jump at the chance to play the disciplinarian."

They all nodded in agreement. The toad would surely dig her own grave. They just had to lead her to it.

"Then when everybody is there we shall seal the doors, and take her out."

"What, in front of the students?" Pomona exclaimed.

"Oh come on, most of them will cheer us for it. And with Severus there, not even the Slytherins in her pocket would dare help her."

"True enough. But then what?"

"Then between Severus and me inside, and the two of you outside, we will put up wards which will lock everyone in, but appear like they are malfunctioning. Though actually … if we can make it seem like _Umbridge_ herself miscast the wards and we had to stop her to keep her from collapsing the whole tower down on us, that would work even better."

"I _like_ this plan," the Slytherin said with a predatory smile.

"You'll like it even more when I tell you to bring potions which will mess enough with her so she'll be totally befuddled, and believe everything we say. Somehow I am positive you have something suitable which cannot be traced ..."

The smile got decidedly wider, and even more predatory.

"And this is why one shouldn't mess with a lioness protecting her cubs," Filius declared with a shake of his head. "Do go on, Minerva dear. What will you do once you have it all safely secured?"

"Well, at that point we calm the students down, dump the Sorting Hat on them, tell them what's going to happen for the next two weeks, and send them to their 'new' dorms to sort themselves out. And have the elves take charge of the toad," she added as an afterthought. "She's bound to hate having them play guard for her, as much as she looks down on anyone not fully human."

"I suppose I had better spend the rest of the day brewing calming draughts then," the potions master commented dryly. "We will surely need plenty to 'calm the students down'. I doubt most of them will take this well, especially if they get resorted."

"As long as you don't take them all yourself," she warned with a pointed look at his slightly stoned expression. "As for Filius and Pomona, the two of you meanwhile have to make sure people believe the ward story, and keep the rest of the school running. Two weeks with somewhat disrupted classes will not harm anyone. We've had much worse over the last years, after all."

"Very true," Filius agreed sadly. "What do we tell the parents, though?"

"Can't we keep the lid on this for two weeks?"

"Albus managed to keep everyone from realising we had a bloody _basilisk_ petrifying children all over the place for _months_ ," Severus pointed out with a snort. "This should be easy by comparison. And with Albus and the toad out of the way, the two of us officially gone, and Filius and Pomona struggling to keep things going … who could blame them for not getting around to informing parents? At the worst, we could always have some of the other school wards 'malfunction', too."

The Ravenclaw and the Hufflepuff exchanged a long look. "I guess we can manage that," the charms master agreed, sounding slightly doubtful. "But what reason do you intend to give Umbridge to make her call the fifth years together?"

"Hmm. I dare say vague hints about something Dumbledore is doing should be sufficient, especially since Mr. Potter will be involved. I know it's not perfect, but ..."

"Tell her we suspect someone from that year is smuggling in dangerous contraband of some sort. Therefore we need to do an inspection of everyone's possessions. Then have the house-elves pack up their trunks and bring them there, and suggest she lock everyone in for the duration of the investigation," Pomona said suddenly.

"Why, that's … perfect!" Minerva exclaimed. "It means the students will also conveniently have all their possessions, which might have been a bit hard to explain otherwise. Or well, most inconvenient if they were without."

"Never let it be said again that badgers cannot be devious, Pomona," Severus told the plump witch, giving her a half-bow. "That was indeed an excellent idea. One last thing though … how do we explain that no-one starved during those two weeks?"

"Well obviously the elves can get through the wards, but are unable to take people with them. Easy enough, and furthermore this allows us a way in which we can 'officially' communicate with the outside."

"That should work, yes. That way we can start with accusing Umbridge, and officially ask for Madame Bones to come begin an investigation into her."

"Personally, I would be very much surprised if she doesn't find dirt on Fudge amongst the toad's stuff … since our pink horror will not have had any opportunity to get rid of it."

"Should we plant something additional?"

"Hmm. No. That might backfire. Just make very sure the blood-quill and whatever else she may have is indeed found."

"Fudge will likely decide to throw her to the wolves, though, and attempt to save his own hide," Filius warned, narrowing his eyes in distaste. "We really need some way to keep him from sweeping it all under the carpet, too."

"We could leak the story to the _Prophet_. They may be under the thumb of the Ministry, but that story is surely too good to pass up on?"

"Perhaps," Minerva finally said with a sigh after they'd all sat in quiet contemplation for long moments. In truth, none of them were particularly well suited for politics. "I believe we probably have to leave the Ministry aspect up to Amelia, and whoever she deems trustworthy and capable to work with us on this. I know she detests Fudge, and once she learns of Albus' manipulations, I honestly believe she will want in on this. But we cannot know for sure until I have talked with her. If she refuses us, we have a problem anyway. And if she joins us, she will very likely have her own ideas on the matter."

"Very true," Severus stated with an air of finality. "However, I fully intend to reduce the toad to a state where she will be only too happy to confess to what she did. I imagine I might also get her to be eager to take down her _beloved_ Minister with her."

"That should make it easier then, for sure. Yes. Still ..."

"I cannot see Madame Bones passing up the chance to deal with all the people she detests and hates most, Minerva," he told her seriously. "And since I am to stop my spying, and deliver up the Death Eaters on a platter to her with my testimony … can you truly imagine her denying that? Given all she has lost at their hands …?"

"No. Not really. You are right, of course. Still, I cannot help worry," she replied, looking away from his earnest gaze.

It was a sure sign of how much the compulsions had been affecting him when he reached across the table to put his hands on top of hers in a reassuring gesture. The Severus of a week ago would never have done that, doped up on calming draughts or not. She gave him a tremulous smile, and he smiled back at her, faintly. Taking his hands back, he started to scribble down several notes while she gathered herself. She couldn't help smile even more at the rather astonished looks she received from the other three at this most unusual display from their resident broody dungeon dweller. He'd always hated touching people, most of all Gryffindors.

Or at least apparently _Albus_ had thought he should not get close to anyone.

"Right. I have one last thing I would like all of you to have a look at," Minerva told them, handing each of them a sheaf of her copied notes and several excerpts she'd taken from the books. "I suspect it may be the answer to how to remove Albus from the school. At the very least, it bears investigating further. However, since Severus and I will be mostly locked away and definitely very busy soon … if you could look into this, Filius? I believe you may find it quite fascinating in any case," she added, picking up the book-bag she had prepared earlier and pushing it across to her Ravenclaw colleague as well.

"Hmm. Oh, my! Elemental affinities? Where did you dig this up, Minerva? But yes, yes … I think I see what you mean, yes … indeed," the tiny charms teacher commented while his eyes eagerly scanned over her closely written notes.

"You likely ought to concentrate on older sources, including what ghosts and portraits are willing and able to speak about it ..."

"Good idea. I shall, and oh, I can already think of a source or two, or three ..."

"More likely three dozen," Severus remarked drily. "Now unless any of you have further ideas or concerns, Minerva and I should get started on organising everything so we are ready for tomorrow's little … malfunction."

"Indeed," she agreed, getting up and stretching wearily. "Oh, and you might consider involving Septima and Bathsheda with this, Filius. As long as you make sure neither of them is going to want to spill everything into the wrong ears, of course," she added wryly.

"Certainly, my dear," Filius said mildly. "We will make sure to check everybody for compulsions, too, in case we need to bring in others."

"Good. Now … I fear I have that interview with Amelia Bones coming up," Minerva told them with a grimace. "Who will no doubt be overjoyed at the way she was lured here ..."

"Which she will likely forget about once you tell her why you did it," Severus pointed out as he courteously helped Pomona Sprout to her feet.

"It is rather a big deal," she agreed, gathering her courage.

Because Hufflepuffs could not only be devious, but quite scary, too. Especially mother badgers. Well, aunt badgers in this case. Guardian badgers. Or whatever. Though hopefully, it would be an enraged badger on _their_ side. Yes. That would be very nice, indeed.

Because together they could teach all those bureaucrats and politicians not to undervalue those who genuinely cared for the children.

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oOoOoOoOo

AN: Sorry for the late update, but I still had to come up with parts of this and I was feeling entirely uninspired (and lazy) the last couple of weeks. Until I got this idea with the pancakes. However … please do not question the pancakes! Because they just kind of … happened. But then I read my notes on how Susan should have a very public outbreak of whatever symptoms during breakfast, and my fingers went and typed in 'blueberry allergy' in Google, and hey look, something suitable for the poor girl. And thus the pancakes got to stay and did not get tossed out for being too weird and pointless. And you get a new chapter, too!

I still continue to be blown away by the responses to this story. I mean, nearly five hundred alerts already? Amazing! And all those reviews! Whee! Thank you all so very much. I am glad so many of you liked the elemental spin, though it may have gotten a bit out of hand. Originally this was meant to be merely a resorting story, the elemental connection sort of sidled in by the back-door (admittedly I have been interested in this topic for like decades). However, I suppose now they are here to stay. They will definitely play a role in the 'how to get rid of Dumbledore' plot, and surely will crop up ever so often. Just how much I have no idea, since I do not write this story. Well, all right, I do. I take _no_ responsibility for my weird inspiration, though. (See the pancakes)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

"So let me see whether I have understood this correctly," Amelia Bones began slowly, the volume of her voice rising steadily like the incipient and inevitable eruption of a volcano. Which made Minerva really appreciate the oppressive feeling of the privacy wards set up around them.

"You have suddenly decided you need to get rid of _Albus Dumbledore_ , mostly because according to you, he plays god with people's lives. Yet nevertheless, you clearly do not hesitate to resort to his kind of methods?" She gestured angrily towards Susan's closed bed-curtains. "All for the 'Greater Good', too, I suppose, if apparently a slightly different one?" she added scathingly, her voice dripping with fury and sarcasm in equal measure.

"Oh, no, not at all," Minerva replied, forcing herself to speak calmly, though her gaze was steely and her expression probably betrayed her annoyance at being compared to Albus. The other witch had at first listened to Minerva's explanations with surprising patience … though apparently that had been mostly dumbfounded silence instead. Or maybe stunned surprise at the audacity of what she was hearing. Yet whatever it was that had initially kept Amelia from exploding, had clearly run out.

Which meant Minerva now faced a most irate badger indeed, and thus she had to keep her own cool if she wanted to get the woman to see reason. Because the witch was so very protective of her niece, and currently solely focusing on the admittedly somewhat underhanded way they'd used to get Amelia into Hogwarts. However, they desperately needed the head of the DMLE here, rather than Susan's aunt. And for that she had to direct the woman's ire towards the real target ...

Still, it was irksome that only a few days ago Minerva would actually have been _pleased_ at being compared to her great and mighty mentor … but well, she had been compelled to think the sun shone out of his ar ... backside. She snorted at the very idea and speared the other witch with an uncompromisingly fierce glare.

"Most certainly not for any dubious 'Greater Good'. Merely for the sake of simple _justice_. In order to right Albus' wrongs, and _incidentally_ take down Fudge and Umbridge and their corruption as well. Not to mention hopefully also to oppose You-know-who better. But yes, I am willing to resort to _some_ dubious means in order to do so _without them noticing_ and consequentially being able to cover up for themselves and escape the justice they richly deserve!" she finished on a rather strident note of her own.

"Hmpf."

Amelia still did not look convinced. Or particularly appeased. Minerva also couldn't help notice that the Hufflepuff's monocle gave her glare a most disconcerting aspect.

"I assure you, Susan really is absolutely fine, Amelia," she continued with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "At worst she got a bit of a shock, but if you can tell me of any other way I could have gotten you into the castle without our _dear_ Under-secretary being instantly suspicious ..."

"But I was told ..."

"Of course you were. After all, Severus did a most impressive job with Susan's _apparent_ symptoms," the Gryffindor witch conceded with a dismissive wave of her hand. "However, she suffered no pain or real negative effects, aside from a very short bout of asphyxiation. Which we were prepared to counter the very moment it happened," she added prudently. Best to downplay that aspect and not set the irate badger off again. "Aside from that, any symptoms remaining should disappear very shortly now," she concluded, praying the other witch would _finally_ make the switch from being a worried aunt to the no-nonsense head of the DMLE.

"All right, Minerva, all right. But this had better be really worth it …"

Could the woman possibly sound more grudging? However, it seemed she might have won the first round in this surreal battle right in the middle of the hospital wing, with its all pervasive air of white sterility. A battle between prospective allies and conspirators, no less. Yet a battle nevertheless, one to convince an upstanding person to not only believe something pretty outrageous, but also to go along with their audacious plans and help them against people of high standing … one of which was her direct superior.

Right. The rest of the battle was probably going to be uphill all the way, too.

"It is. Truly. I am sorry for worrying you about Susan, but we will have only one good shot at this. Which will _fail_ without your help, and will equally fail if we try to do this by the book, surely you can see this? The people we are up against are not only perfectly willing to lie, blackmail and mess with people's heads, but also abuse their office in the worst way! And that's not even taking You-know-who into account! If we want to clear out this veritable stable of Augeas, we will have to resort to … unusual methods! Frankly, if you decide you can't or won't do that … we may as well give up now and move to Timbuktu!"

"Surely it cannot be that bad ..."

"One: You-know-who is _back_ , but the Ministry is denying it and in doing so, allows him all the time he needs to prepare. Two: Both Umbridge and Fudge have violated the law they are supposed to uphold, and are using anything they can to cover up for themselves. Three: Albus Dumbledore, who _should_ oppose You-know-who, instead seems set on turning _students_ into a weapon against him, and actually has no other viable plan of fighting him. Not to forget Albus is awfully free with _obliviates_ and coercions to steer people around like chess-pieces!"

Minerva took a deep breath, throwing up her hand when Amelia looked about to interrupt her, before continuing relentlessly: "Four: Albus is _also_ sitting tight on information which might turn especially the pure-bloods away from You-know-who, and instead all but delivers Slytherin house into the monster's hands by forcing Severus Snape to keep his spy-cover. Five: ..."

"Yes, all right. I … agree," the other witch broke in, stopping Minerva's listing impatiently. " _If_ what you say is true, something has to be done indeed. I can see that. But how can I be sure of what you tell me? I will not risk my position on some wild goose chase or an empty conspiracy theory!"

"Oh, but I am certain you know some of this already, don't you? I'm _positive_ you have been spoiling to clean up the Ministry, at least. And I'm pretty sure you believe _he_ is back, right?" she countered, watching the other witch through narrowed eyes.

The Hufflepuff glared back at her, but nevertheless nodded reluctantly. Good. They were starting to get somewhere.

"As for our part … Severus Snape will freely give you all he has on the Death Eaters and You-know-who's organisation. We have definite proof of something which will sink Umbridge, and frankly, it is highly likely she will have quite a bit of dirt on various people, including Fudge. And we will be most happy to show you our memories of Albus' meddling."

Amelia Bones had progressed to looking conflicted. "I _will_ need all of that," she stated flatly. "You're right in so far that I have indeed been compiling stuff on the Minister and several key members of his staff for a while … and on the sly," she admitted with a wince. "So if you can offer me more, and most of all some concrete evidence, which I lack … "

"We have evidence, yes. Madame Pomfrey has by now substantial documentation of Umbridge forcing students to use an illegal blood-quill during detentions. And if you can use that to search her things, while the toad herself is out of the way ..."

"From the way accusations have been made against her in the past, only to be retracted under somewhat suspicious circumstances, I would be surprised if we _didn't_ find evidence of blackmail. But Fudge ..."

"Has for some reason enabled and endorsed her all the way. What do you think the odds are she has a hold over him as well, hmm?"

"It is still … risky. Very risky."

Yet Amelia appeared quite torn. Obviously she was interested … but equally obviously she would require more convincing arguments to actually do so.

"You don't have to make any moves against the Minister until after we have found something damning," Minerva pointed out dryly. "And you should be able to keep your investigation of Umbridge under cover easily enough, if the b .. witch herself is out of the way, no?"

"True enough, hmm … well … I ..."

"What is it, Amelia?"

"You are aiming at setting me up as the interim Minister, aren't you? I mean, I do agree something has to be done, but I am not sure I'm the right person for that."

"But you are by far the most trustworthy and honest person in a position to do what needs done, my dear."

"Perhaps. Yet at the same time you are asking this supposedly _honest_ person to do some not so very honest things!"

"I am asking you to help us bring light into the darkness, Amelia. You can only do that by walking through the darkness yourself at first, though. And truly, do you expect to have to do anything which is worse than any Auror has to do in order to infiltrate some Dark Wizards? Don't tell me you have never taken part in any covert operations?"

"Yes, but those were sanctioned ..."

"And this is sanctioned by _justice_ _itself_! When the leadership itself is corrupt, doesn't it fall to anybody who can do to what they can to restore balance and justice? Wouldn't you commit a far worse crime if you sat back and _did nothing_?"

"Well," the other witch said with a strangled laugh after a moment of stunned silence. "When did you learn to turn an argument like this, Minerva?"

"Needs must, Amelia. I had my own wake-up call, and my part in this is just as risky as yours would be. If we fail at this … I might as well have thrown away my whole life. You don't think Albus would let me walk away from open rebellion, do you?"

"Honestly? At the moment I have no idea what he would be willing to do."

The Gryffindor witch grimaced, letting all her bitterness and rage towards Albus blend into her features. "Certainly everything up to and including extensive memory modifications and complete personality overhauls, it seems," she said harshly. "He is definitely not inclined to have his will challenged by anybody."

"So you claim at least ..."

Damn. Amelia still sounded far too doubtful. Unfortunately, for all that the Hufflepuff wasn't Albus' greatest fan, she had still been indoctrinated all her life into the view of the headmaster as the ultimate personification of what was good and light. However, that was one misconception that should be shattered easily enough by seeing what the old wizard had been up to ...

"Why don't I show you our evidence then?"

"Yes," the head of the DMLE agreed, glancing one more at the white curtains around her niece's bed. Her expression then hardened. "Yes, I believe I should have a look at that. And afterwards, we can resume this discussion."

Minerva merely sighed and gestured for Amelia to follow her.

Uphill all the way, indeed.

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oOoOoOoOo

"So we is to turn one floor into dorms for girls, and the other into the boy's place, Mistress Professor McGonagall?"

"That's exactly right, Peony. We need four rooms per floor for the children to sleep in, one for each house. As well as one room each for Professor Snape and me. Him with the boys and me with the girls, obviously," she added primly, to make sure to avoid any misunderstandings.

Because sometimes the elves had an odd sense of humour. Or maybe a streak of rebellion. At least Albus had at times complained about this kind of thing … ah. Rebellion then, for sure.

Peony the head house-elf nodded happily. "Yes, Mistress Professor Ma'am! Plenty of rooms for that, though there is not many bathrooms. Not as many as in the normal dorms," she explained, sounding a bit dismayed at the prospect.

"We'll make do, I'm sure," Minerva reassured her. "It is just for two weeks after all. Professor Snape and I will also both need some kind of office … as well as a place for us to meet with students together," she added after a moment's thought. "That one should be … cosy. And it would be better if there was no over-abundance of any particular house-colour in that room. Keep it neutral, if you can."

"We can be doing that, Mistress Professor McGonagall. No problem at all."

"Good. Also please remember you should only set up the ground-floor as a class-room after we have … sorted out everything. For tomorrow morning it should be clean, but empty. Aside from enough chairs for everyone," she added thoughtfully. They were likely to take some time with the resorting and explanations, after all. Quite aside from the possibility of emotional distress and even fainting, which was more manageable if the children were all sitting down.

The elf nodded again. "No problem. And a locked room for Miss Bad Teacher Umbridge, yes?"

"Exactly. And during breakfast tomorrow, you will have to pack up all the fifth year student's trunks. Do you think you can manage that?"

Peony snapped her tiny fingers absent-mindedly. "Easy, Mistress Professor Ma'am! Elves is _good_ at packing. Yes, very good. All is easy."

"Well, in that case … I could also do with help later today to get some of my things prepared and packed. And one of you ought to assist Professor Snape with the same," she added quickly. "But please, you know how he is. Don't send him someone who is too … excitable."

She shuddered inwardly. Excitable elves and Severus did _not_ mix well. Or rather _at all_. They didn't need an explosion because of something like that, not when everything else was already so very volatile. The poor wizard might end up overdosing on calming draughts.

"Oh, noes, Mistress Professor McGonagall. Peony knows just who to send to grim Master Professor Snape."

Did she want to ask why there was this slightly disturbing gleam in the elf's eyes? Did she really? Probably not, she decided.

"Just don't go upsetting the Professor, please," she pressed nevertheless.

"Upsetting? Never, Mistress Professor Ma'am," Peony assured her, all wide-eyed innocence.

Ah, well. Surely it couldn't be too bad, could it?

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oOoOoOoOo

"Could you _possibly_ have sent me a slower house-elf, Minerva? Or one harder of hearing?" Severus Snape grumbled, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as he slumped down into the chair next to her with a defeated air. She could tell the degree of his agitation from the way his knuckles whitened because he was gripping the table-edge so hard.

Apparently it could be too bad, after all.

"Oh dear."

"Don't you dare tell me you had nothing to do with this! _You_ talked with them earlier!"

She sighed, and carefully put down her cutlery. "I may have asked Peony not to send you someone excitable," she confessed, giving him a carefully apologetic smile. "I had no idea she would take it to the other extreme, however."

"Is that so?"

She winced at the icy, cutting harshness of his tone of voice.

"I certainly had no desire to cause you aggravation, Severus. In fact, I was trying to _prevent_ that very thing. Alas, I suspect the house-elves have long since elevated passive-aggressive rebellion into quite an art form ..."

"Hmpf. You could say that," he groused, though he let up on his death-grip on the table and relaxed back into his chair. "But why me? What have I done to deserve such treatment?"

"Well. You might not have noticed, but you were always quite as … short with them as with the students," she tried to point out diplomatically.

"But that wasn't my fault!"

"You and I know that. _They_ don't."

Severus, who had clearly been poised to continue his tirade, stopped himself and passed a weary hand over his eyes instead. "Of course. How silly of me not to think of that," he said, sounding resigned and rather tired.

It was indeed unfortunate that while a lot of his past behaviour had not been Severus' fault at all, he would sadly still have to deal with the resulting consequences. Given how … acerbic he had been, he might never be able to recover most relationships. It was really a horrible example of how little Albus considered their personal worth … and how carelessly he ruined lives.

Or course the Slytherin, even left entirely to his own devices, was unlikely to have turned into a paragon of social interaction, but he was nowhere near as bad as he'd been forced to be. She could already see the difference in him, now that the compulsions were broken. Still, it would take time, in some cases a lot of time, to change his image in the eyes of others. The house-elves were probably the least of their worries, as the 'normal' Severus appeared to be a perfectly courteous person, which they would appreciate. Other people were far less likely to forget the treatment they had received from the wizard's cutting tongue.

"Yes, well. I am sure they will realise eventually you never were exactly … you, in your treatment of them."

"Hopefully sooner rather than later," he concluded wearily, finally sitting up straight and reaching for one of the serving dishes. "Maybe you could have another word with them? And perhaps point this little fact out to them?"

"Of course, dear. I should have done so earlier. I simply forgot it might be necessary ..."

"Yes, well indeed. We all tend to overlook them and their work, unless there is something at fault with it."

"Hmm. Very true. And since there rarely is, unless they feel offended ..."

"We put them out of mind. But … you know, how much do you think they dislike certain _other_ people?"

Minerva much preferred the way his dark eyes suddenly came alive with a wicked gleam to his earlier defeated look. "Oh, a very great deal indeed, if I were to hazard a guess," she said with deliberate casualness, after dabbing daintily at her chin with her napkin. "You reckon we might utilize this fact?"

"We had already planned for them to keep an eye on ..." his eyes swept with disdain over a certain pink-clad witch sitting on the other end of the table. "And we will need their assistance to keep our impromptu fifth year house running, so ..."

"Why not involve them even more?"

"They, too, might appreciate a chance for revenge, no?"

"But it might also give them … ideas … you know, for the future? Do we really want that?" she objected, trying to appear all serious and stern.

"Oh well. And here I thought I would finally get some minions of my own …"

Dear Merlin, did the man just _pout_?

"Besides if I helped them come up with inventive ways to torment our toad, they would perhaps forgive me faster?" he continued to speculate, tilting his head thoughtfully. There was definitely a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth as he eyed her sideways.

"They would quite literally be mini-ons in this case," she replied teasingly, finally allowing her own smile to show, which had been bubbling up inside her at having him engage her in such easy-going banter. It was altogether a huge change to his earlier icy demeanour. And much preferable.

"All the better to torment my enemies with, my dear," he said with a feral grin, showing his slightly crooked teeth. "Just think, there is hardly anywhere they cannot get into!"

Maybe people would be more willing to reconsider the dour wizard if she managed to get him to have his appearance straightened out? If he looked different on the outside, they might find it easier to see the inward differences, too? Especially if he let himself smile and joke around more …

But really, how much of his tormented fixation on the past and a certain witch had been caused by Albus? Severus was still quite young, and it would be a shame if his brilliance went to waste. Not that she ought to play matchmaker, but … anyway, it was an idea for later. After they had sorted out the current mess.

Always provided they actually did manage to sort out the current mess. The thought sobered her up again.

"May it come to bite them, in any case," she murmured, smiling back at him fondly, if a bit wistfully. "However, we should not forget this is not a fairy-tale with a guaranteed happy ending."

He sighed, and his expression settled back to the old, accustomed frown. "No indeed. For one, we have far more than just one big bad wolf in this story."

She put a comforting hand on his arm for a moment. "But neither are we alone, nor are we defenceless maidens, either."

That earned her another vicious grin. "Most definitely not, Minerva. Though I believe you still have to lure one of the monsters into its designated trap today ..."

"Ugh. Don't remind me. I was trying very hard _not_ to let it spoil my dinner."

"And here I wanted to give you a few pointers ..."

"Oh, I'll take _those_ ," she said, leaning towards him eagerly.

After all, who would know better how to tempt and trick a Slytherin, especially a greedy one like Umbridge, than a fellow Slytherin. And who better to bait the trap than the straightforward and entirely inconspicuous Gryffindor, who could not _possibly_ have any hidden motives whatsoever.

She allowed herself a predatory smile.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Hey, guys."

"Harry! Where have you been?" Hermione exclaimed, rising up halfway from her seat at the Gryffindor table and apparently also caught halfway between glaring at him in censure and frowning unhappily in concern. It combined to make her look altogether displeased with him.

"Uhm. You know, around," he said vaguely, sitting down across from his two friends with a murmur of thanks towards the second year who'd shifted down to give him more space.

" _Around_. Is that what you call hiding from your friends these days?"

Oh boy, Hermione sure wasn't in a good mood. She only sounded that shrill when she was seriously upset. But …

So what if he had kind of been hiding. Maybe. Perhaps he simply didn't want to face them after … after having to submit to a most uncomfortable session with Madame Pomfrey. So what if he had decided to ditch both classes and lunch after that, and found a need to vent some of his … frustration in the Room of Requirement? Because nobody was supposed to _know_. And he was pretty sure the Matron now knew far more than she should.

Not that she had reacted. Much. Though he couldn't help the impression she'd actually _expected_ to find something ...

Which resonated with the oddly persistent, niggling feeling that he'd already gone through something similar in the past. But nothing had ever come of it, so why should it now? It was only a kind of deja vu, surely. That must be all it was, because nothing had ever happened in consequence. Certainly nothing positive ever came of telling anyone. They all promised to help, and then promptly forgot about it. Just as there seemed to be something he kept forgetting …

He frowned. But really, it was nothing. It was …

Nothing worth worrying about, was what it was. He just had to make sure nobody ever found out. Because they wouldn't understand, or worse, pity him and think him weak. Which would simply be unacceptable. He had to be strong. He wasn't a victim, or abused or any of that crap. Nope. He just didn't get on with his relatives, but so what. He could take it. He had always been fine in the end, and would continue to be fine. Right.

Unfortunately, neither of his friends seemed to see it that way. But then they didn't actually know what he didn't want to share with them, or why, for that matter. He really hated the look of hurt and uncertainty in Hermione's eyes, though. Or the frustration and concern in Ron's. But they wouldn't understand, what with their own great families and happy childhoods.

However, he could tell them something after all, he remembered after a moment of enduring the emotions in their gazes. Something which had nothing to do with his _dear_ relatives and their abysmal relationship. Something totally different, which had caused Madame Pomfrey's eyes to narrow dangerously and her lips to compress in obvious anger.

"I was … upset," he finally confessed in a whisper, leaning forward under the pretence of reaching for something. He moulded his expression into one of distress, flicking his eyes to both sides as if to check who was listening in. The other two leaned forward automatically in response. He held up his bandaged hand and flexed it rather conspicuously. Their eyes tracked towards it in reflex.

"They found out about this, I think," he continued lowly. "Madame Pomfrey was asking me all kinds of questions and doing scans and whatnot."

"Oh," Hermione gasped, her eyes going round. "And after you tried to hide it for so long … though I told you before you should have told someone!"

"Yes, well. That's half the reason I was upset, I guess," he admitted grudgingly. "I dunno how to feel about this. Part of me is angry it took them so long to notice, and the other half is upset because I kept quiet about it for so long and now it's possible come out anyway."

"You reckon they are going to do something about it, mate?" Ron said, peering worriedly over Harry's shoulder towards the teacher's table, presumably to where the pink toad was sitting.

"No idea, honestly," Harry replied, leaning back again and putting on a face of resignation. "Which is the next thing worrying me. Cause it was _McGonagall_ who dragged me there, remember? And if those two go head to head with the toad, and she wins ..."

The three of them winced in unison, and Harry half turned to look over his shoulder at the head table.

Umbridge certainly didn't appear aware of anything so far, as she sat delicately picking at her meal with her usual fake smile plastered all over her face. The Matron was absent, but their head of house was once again sitting next to Snape, apparently listening to whatever the wizard was saying with rapt attention.

Huh.

As he watched them for several long moments, he observed both of them look towards the toad with matching malicious smirks. In that moment he suddenly felt oddly sure they knew what Umbitch had done. And that they intended to take her down.

Huh, indeed.

Seeing those two possibly plot against the toad gave him the most peculiar feeling. One which oscillated wildly between dread and strangely, hope. The feeling continued to coil uncomfortably in his stomach even after he turned back towards his friends. Fortunately it seemed his explanation had satisfied their concerns about his earlier vagrancy, and the topic was mercifully dropped after they all exchanged some long, uneasy glances. Instead Harry loaded up his plate, and then pretended to listen meekly to Hermione go on and on about the lessons he'd missed today, while he picked at his dinner.

Unfortunately, all this had once again robbed him of what little appetite he'd had. But he was an old hand at pretending to eat while he wasn't really. Or pretend to smile when he didn't feel like it. Or pretend to be fine, when he wasn't actually.

But it didn't matter. And the Matron would hopefully stay quiet about whatever she may have found aside from the scar, and then everything would be fine. Just like always.

Yet as he eventually followed his friends from the Hall, on their way back to Gryffindor tower, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking on ice which was slowly cracking up.

And that something was about to happen ...

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Dear readers, I really have to apologize for the horribly long delay in updating. There were various problems plaguing me, medical and otherwise, that afford me _some_ feeble excuses, and I honestly kept trying to finish this day after day, but …

It is currently simply a struggle for me to write. If I am lucky, it will get better. I will be honest though, it could get worse instead. However, be assured I want to write more. I like to write. I enjoy it. When I can get past the laziness, and my reading addiction, and assorted distractions, or just not feeling up to it, and … I will keep trying. In theory the next chapter is mostly written, which is still no guarantee it will be posted soon. But I will try. Because you are amazing. And there is so many of you! Really, it is almost scary. I mean, five chapters and over five-hundred favourites? Not to forget the 76 reviews I got for the last chapter? That is totally amazing. And slightly scary, that so many of you think this is a good story. And also wonderful. And … I will shut up now and finally post this chapter!

oOoOoOoOo


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